Easier to Lie
by Coopereid
Summary: Tired of Derek constantly dancing with other women at clubs and not taking him into consideration, Spencer decides to get some revenge, but goes too far, eventually cheating on him. Can he forgive himself, and worse, could ever Derek forgive him? Song-fic based on a song of the same title.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** First off, please don't hate me! I've seen several stories out there where Derek cheats, and I just wanted to turn the tables on that. The song, 'Easier to Lie', inspired this fic. Also, I own nothing (except, obviously, the OC).

* * *

Spencer sat at the bar, watching Derek on the dance floor. He really despised the nights when Derek would want to spend a night out, mainly because he'd get offers from strange women to dance with him, and he'd never refuse. Time after time, he had to watch his boyfriend all but have sex with them. He stirred the straw in his drink, checking his watch, and wishing the night would go by faster.

Garcia sat down next to him, nudging his arm. "Everything okay over here, soldier?"

He gave her a nod, taking another sip of his drink.

"You can't lie to Garcie, sweetie. Come on, out with it."

He motioned toward the dance floor, where Derek was currently surrounded by three attractive women throwing themselves at him. "We've been together for three years, I'd like to think he would respect me enough _not_ to grind up on strange women."

"It's _just_ dancing. I'm completely positive that all of them are going to be extremely disappointed at the end of the night."

He shrugged it off, setting his drink down. "I'm going home. I have to prepare for a guest lecture in the morning. Make sure he makes it back to his apartment safely?"

"Scout's honor."

He gave her a nod, before walking out to the parking lot and hailing a cab.

Sitting on the couch with his legs tucked underneath himself, he looked down at his notebook, where he was attempting to write out his speech. He could never really understand why they insisted on sending him out to recruit new agents at colleges: considering how advanced his knowledge was, and how poor he did at public speaking, surely there were better options. Rossi had mentioned previously that they may have him do it because of his age, but sometimes he couldn't help but think he was the only one who was willing to do it, considering he had a hard time saying no to anyone.

He had just finished his speech when his phone started ringing. Reaching over, he checked the caller ID and sighed, answering it.

"Hello?" he said, reading his speech and committing it to memory.

"You took off early on me, Pretty Boy."

He rolled his eyes, setting his notebook on the table. "Excuse me for not enjoying the spectacle of my boyfriend dry humping strangers on the dance floor."

Derek raised an eyebrow. "Spencer, it's nothing. It's just dancing."

He shook his head. "I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

"Spencer-"

"What?" he snapped.

"Don't go to bed mad. I promise you, it's _nothing_."

He chewed on his cheek before exhaling. "Derek, I really need to finish this speech tonight if I'm not going to make a complete fool of myself tomorrow."

"Then tell me you're not mad."

"I can't do that. Whether you were going to do something or not, the fact that you allowed them to _think_ you would by dancing with them is disgusting."

"What do you expect me to do, Spencer, not go dancing and enjoy myself? You weren't exactly offering to go out there with me. In fact, you were practically cemented to your seat when I tried."

"Oh, so because _I_ refuse to dance with you, you don't take one of our coworkers, and instead take strange, attractive women who quite obviously want to sleep with you? That makes complete sense, Derek." He walked over to his door, checking the lock, before walking back to the bedroom, sitting on his bed. "I fail to see how you did me a favor."

He groaned. "Spencer, I was just trying to have some fun after a 15 hour day. You can't blame me for that."

"I wanted to have some fun, too. I wanted to come back to my apartment, have a few glasses of wine, and watch a movie on the couch. Your definition of _fun_ after work is having strange women throw themselves at you and have them buying you drinks. Call me crazy, but I fail to see how having to watch that can be considered 'fun'."

"Spencer, please, just don't go to bed angry, okay? Can we just meet for breakfast in the morning?"

Rather than arguing, he sighed. "I'll meet you at the diner before I have to head to Potomac."

"…You're doing this one alone?"

He laid back. "Yeah, it's just me this time."

"Impressive. Don't get tricked into a fraternity or join any clubs."

Spencer mock laughed.

"And no more degrees. Bordering on six is more than enough for you right now."

He smiled slightly. "We'll see." He looked over at his alarm clock and sighed. "I need to get some sleep. I'll meet you for breakfast at about 8:00?"

"Sounds great. If you need to run your speech by me ahead of time, you can. I could help you make it sound more, for lack of a better word, human."

He rolled his eyes. "Good _bye_, Derek."

"Love you, Spencer."

He shook his head. "I love you too. Now good night."

"Night."

He hung up, reaching over and plugging his phone in. He was still mad at Derek for his actions, but he had to admit he was right: he definitely couldn't go to bed angry with something important to do the next day. Sighing, he turned over on his side, falling asleep.

* * *

The next morning, Spencer sat in the diner, stirring the sugar into his coffee. He wasn't sure why he agreed to this breakfast date with Derek, considering he was still furious with him. He sipped his coffee, setting it back on the table and looking at the clock: he was used to being early or their breakfast dates, but he definitely wasn't used to Derek running late. It was already 8:10 and there was no sign of him. When he finally walked in, Spencer looked up at him.

"You're late."

He slid in the booth across from Spencer. "I'm sorry. I had to pay my neighbor for watching Clooney and take care of a few things."

He sighed, leaning back and picking up his menu. "Did you have fun last night?"

Derek looked at his own menu. "Until I realized that I'd been left alone by my boyfriend, yes."

Spencer shook his head. "I told you, I wasn't going to sit back and watch you practically having sex with strange women on the dance floor."

"I really don't want an argument right now, Spencer. Can we talk this out tonight at my place?"

He thought about it. "Will you have red wine?"

"Of course."

He exhaled. "Fine. I shouldn't be going to a lecture when I'm upset anyway."

As they were eating, Derek looked over at him. "Do you want me to read your speech?"

"Why, you're afraid I don't sound human?" he asked, reaching for his satchel.

"No, I'm just nervous for you to do your first recruitment lecture solo." He held his hand out, waiting.

Spencer sighed, taking out his notebook and handing it to him. He sat up, watching Derek intently as he read through. He was hoping his body language would give something away, but was having no luck.

Derek finally set down the notebook ten minutes later, eyebrows raised. "Wow."

"…It's too long, isn't it? Or too short? Or I used too much terminology… but did I not use enough? I don't know, maybe I should just rewrite it." He reached out to grab the notebook, but Derek pulled it back.

"You've _actually_ written something amazing. I can understand it, it's witty, it's interesting, and you're definitely going to keep the attention of a bunch of college students."

He smiled slightly. "Really?"

"Really." Derek held out the notebook to him, and he quickly took it, stuffing it into his bag.

After they paid the bill, Derek looked at him. "What time are you getting out of this thing?"

He shrugged. "It depends, really. I'm supposed to be guest lecturing in one class, but if they like me, I may be able to speak in all of the Criminology courses today."

"So you're not going to be at work today?"

He shook his head. "I'll be lecturing until noon, and then if the other courses work out, my last one would end at six."

"Dinner at seven?"

He thought to himself. "I'll let you know." He stood up, putting his bag over his shoulder. "I'll call you once I know anything."

"Sounds great." He wrapped his arms around Spencer, kissing his forehead. "Good luck. Not that you'll need it."

He smiled to himself. "Thank you. Don't have too much fun at the BAU without me."

"Considering my day is going to be filled with case files and Garcia occasionally coming into my office, asking for details about our relationship? Trust me, your day is going to be _much_ more interesting."

"We'll see about that. If I don't put anybody to sleep, I'll consider it a victory."

"I'm sure it'll be fine." He leaned over, kissing his cheek again. "Your speech is going to go great, everyone's going to stay awake, and I'm willing to bet you'll even have time for a Q&A session."

"High expectations. Let's hope they're met." He crossed his fingers before walking outside, making his way to the subway station.

As the train was moving, he ran through the speech in his head. With his eidetic memory, it was simple, but he tried to add in a few things here and there to make it more interesting. Derek had given him a vote of confidence that it would go well, but he just wanted to be sure. When he got in front of a crowd, he had a habit of clamming up and randomly spurting facts instead of focusing on the subject matter: case in point, his 'joke' on existentialism that bombed and made him seem like a complete idiot. With the research he had done, he was ready to, for the first time, wow the crowd and have them pay attention to every word he said. In the back of his mind was his mini-argument with Derek the night before, and hopefully resolving it later, though there was a part of him that was thinking it would just lead to another argument, as it usually did. Sighing, he put his notebook into his bag, running through the speech one last time before getting off at his stop.

* * *

Spencer stood at the front of the classroom, reviewing his notes one last time. Luckily, he'd arrived early and was able to set everything up, including the Powerpoint presentation to go with his notes. His mind tried to nag him about everything happening with Derek, but he pushed it aside, focusing on the day ahead. There were definitely more ideal time slots to be giving a lecture: considering 9:00 a.m. was the first class of the day, he wasn't sure he'd reach his goal of not putting someone to sleep. He watched as the class slowly started to fill up, and was surprised to see so many people. When he had been in school and there were guest lecturers, his fellow students tended to skip it, as nothing the speaker would say was included on exams.

Once the clock struck nine, he was pleasantly surprised that every chair in the classroom was full of twenty-something year-olds, eager to hear what he had to say. Most of them sat up straight, ready to take notes, which he found impressive.

The professor walked up to the front of the class. "As you know, we have a guest lecturer in class: Doctor Spencer Reid, from the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI. Today, he'll be speaking with you about profiling, his work in the BAU, and I'm sure at the end, he'd be happy to take your questions."

Spencer nodded slightly, standing up and walking over to the podium, pressing the button to turn on the presentation. "Thank you, Professor Miller." He cleared his throat. "Sorry, as she said, my name is Doctor Spencer Reid, and I've been an agent with the Behavior Analysis Unit for the past eight years. First off, can anybody tell me what profiling _is_?"

Someone in the front row raised their hand, which Spencer was surprised to see. "Yes?"

"It's a behavioral and investigative tool, which helps investigators predict and profile an unknown criminal subject or multiple offenders."

He raised his eyebrows, impressed. "Correct. And when we use _forensic_ profiling, it counts as evidence that can be used in court, but I'm getting ahead of myself. On the job, my team and I look for unknown subjects, abbreviated as _unsubs_. There are typically five procedural steps in generating a profile…" he clicked a button on the remote and looked up at the screen, satisfied that he was doing well. "First, we need to do an analysis of the nature of the crime, as well as compare it to other people who have committed such crimes in the past. Earlier this year, we studied a serial killer in California who was replicating the Zodiac Killer, who is still at large today. Second, we need to analyze the crime scene. Usually, one or two members of the team will take care of that step. Third, we look into the victim's background and activities to look for any possible connections. From this, we try to generate a geographical profile and try to pinpoint a comfort zone or where the unsub will attack next." He cleared his throat, glancing up at the screen. "Fourth, we look at the factors for the motivation behind the crime. Sometimes, serial killers commit their crimes because the victim is a surrogate for someone who hurt them in the past, whether they were assaulted or abused by a parent or somebody they otherwise trusted. Finally, we come up with a description of the offender, complete with characteristics in comparison to previous cases. We often draw from cases in the past to help us come up with profiles on unsubs we don't quite have enough to generate a complete profile on." He felt himself rambling and shook his head. "At this point, we generate the profile, give it to the police, and with the help of our technical analyst, we're able to go through a process of elimination and find our unsub before he takes another victim." He looked around the room, hoping he hadn't lost anybody. "Any questions?"

The same person who raised his hand before raised it again.

Spencer pointed to him. "Yes?"

"How do you know which cases you're going to work?"

He thought about his response. "Well, we have specific people in the unit who are able to weigh the options on cases, and choose where another crime is most imminent. For example, we'd take a case involving a family annihilator who could target other families over say a case where there was a murder the third Friday of every month. I _personally_ wouldn't be able to do the job, so I need to commend those who do."

Several other hands went up, and Spencer gladly spent the rest of the lecture answering the questions in great detail. Everyone seemed to enjoy the class, and he definitely considered this lecture to be a success – a much bigger one than his past experiences. After the class, several of the students came up to him to meet him, and he wasn't used to the attention – when he went to recruitment lectures with Rossi, he'd usually get the attention for his writing and his past in criminology, while Spencer would stay toward the back. He had to admit, it was a welcomed change.

He was able to stay and lecture in two other classes, and saw a few repeat faces in the crowds. People were never especially interested in what he had to say, especially when he repeated it several times, and seeing people eager to hear him several times in the day was refreshing. Once the last lecture was over, he put his bag over his shoulder after taking out the flash drive, tucking it into the front of his bag. He texted Derek, letting him know he'd be at his apartment soon, and stuffed his phone into his pocket as he walked into somebody in the hallway, causing them to drop their books.

"Oh, wow," he bent down, scooping up the books, "I am so _so_ sorry. I should've been paying attention to where I was going. I haven't been in a school hallway in years and I still find a way to make a fool of myself. I'm so sorry."

"Don't worry about it, they're just for fun – nothing I had to spend my life savings on."

He handed the books to their owner and looked up as they both stood up. He recognized him as someone who came to all of his lectures that day, always asking insightful questions. "Did you enjoy the lecture?" he asked, fixing his bag.

"All three of them," the younger man admitted. Spencer looked him over and knew he had to be in his mid to late 20's, based on his appearance.

He smiled to himself. "Didn't you have other classes to go to?"

"It's… it's actually my day off. I've read some of your published articles and when I heard you were speaking in the senior criminology courses today, I hate to sound ridiculous, but I had to come see you."

Spencer raised his eyebrows. "You _wanted_ to hear me?"

"Your articles are so insightful and, I have to admit, it's refreshing to see someone so young with so much knowledge."

Spencer held out his hand. "I've already introduced myself to you three times today. Your name is-?"

The man quickly took his hand, shaking it. "Mason Adams, it's been an honor."

He smiled. "Trust me, having someone enjoying my constant rambling was a breath of fresh air. Are you looking to get into the FBI?"

"I'm actually working on my Masters right now, considering I'm out of the academy right now with an injury, and have to wait another three months to officially join the bureau."

He reached in his bag, taking out a card. "If you ever want to talk, just give me a call. I'd be more than happy to answer any more of your questions. We could meet up for coffee sometime, or maybe go to a library. It all depends if I'm on a case with the team, but I'll gladly fit you into my schedule sometime if you'd like."

Mason looked at the card with a smile. "It sounds like a plan. I'll be sure to give you a call soon."

Spencer gave him a nod. "Nice to meet you, Mason." He walked away, fixing his bag on his shoulder one last time before walking out, making his way toward the subway station. It was definitely a breath of fresh air to have someone actually interested in him after a lecture.


	2. Chapter 2

Spencer walked into Derek's apartment, hanging his bag on the hook by the door and bending down to scratch Clooney behind the ears. He got up, walking to the living room, where Derek was watching TV.

"…Hi?" he said, stepping toward the couch.

Derek looked up and reached for the remote, turning off the TV. "Hey. Good day?"

He smiled slightly, before nodding and taking the seat beside Derek. "How was work?"

He leaned back, stretching. "Boring. Just another day of good ol' case files that last way too long."

"There had better not be more than 16 files in my stack on Monday morning, Derek, or I swear to God-"

"There won't be," Derek said, putting his hands up defensively. "_After_ I get into work and fix the issue."

He shook his head. "So, are you going to ask about my lecture?"

"Do I really need to, considering you just said that?"

He groaned. "_Derek_."

He smiled, running a hand through Spencer's hair. "How was your lecture?"

"That depends on which one you're asking about."

"Excuse me?"

"I gave not one, not two, but _three_ separate two hour lectures, complete with question and answer sessions and several students approaching me afterward for my card."

Derek raised his eyebrows, impressed. "How many cards did you go with?"

"Fifty."

"And how many do you have left?"

Spencer smirked. "Four."

"And how many people did you give multiples to?"

Spencer rolled his eyes, swatting at Derek's chest. "_None_."

Derek wrapped an arm around his shoulders. "So, what happened?"

"Well, as you know, I talked about the BAU and the science of profiling, and I related all of it to cases that we've solved as a team in the past. Pretty much every student in the class had a question or wanted to know something about the job, so I was happy to oblige. The lecture took up about an hour, and people wanting to speak with me took up the last hour and then some. I even had a few repeat faces at the lectures."

"Repeats?"

He nodded. "One person in particular was front row and center for all three of my lectures. He's on his way to the FBI in a few months, and he's currently out of the academy with an injury."

"…So, he's already guaranteed a job at the bureau, and he still attended three of your lectures?"

"Well, yeah. He enjoyed what I had to say, and he had different questions every single time I spoke. When I was leaving, I ran into him and we got to talking about the lecture, and he really seemed to enjoy my way of speaking and the way I related everything to my work, so I was able to draw in the audience."

Derek squeezed his arm protectively. "You didn't give him your card, did you?"

Spencer looked at him, confused. "Of course I did. I said if he ever wanted to ask me anything about the job, the bureau, or anything else, I'd be available."

"And you didn't include your cell number, did you?"

"…Yes, I did. It was written on the back. I fail to see why this is an issue?"

"Because to me, it sounds like he wants less to do with picking your brain, and more to do with getting in your pants."

Spencer sat up, pushing Derek's arm off of his. "…So, let me get this straight. Because someone actually showed interest in my intellect and everything I had to say, he _must_ just want sex from me, because I'm not that interesting?"

"No, but… Spencer, he was at three of your lectures-"

"…I changed the subject matter every time I spoke, so I never said the same thing twice. I didn't want to bore the audience with the same statistics and facts over and over again, so I moved everything around. Maybe he just wanted to see what I'd say differently."

"Or maybe he's just a pervert."

Spencer shot up from the couch, arms crossed. "Just because you're no longer rushing to get into my pants doesn't mean every other member of the male gender who comes up to me is trying to do it. What, so now I can't hold a conversation with another guy, because obviously, he just wants sex from me and nothing else?"

"No, I'm just saying that I don't have a good feeling about this guy."

"…It's amazing how much you detest him from the little I told you."

"In case you've forgotten? The same happened to Penelope a few years back, and she ended up with a bullet in the gut. I'd say that's a good judge of character."

Spencer scoffed. "_Once_. Once you were right about not trusting somebody, and now anyone who talks to your boyfriend just wants sex from him. Forget the fact that he's a triple doctorate genius who's read more books than are in any public library, and that he can recite them verbatim. Anyone who talks to me only wants to speak to me because I'm going to put out. Not only are they assholes, but I'm easy."

"That's not what I'm saying at all, Spencer. I'm just saying-"

Spencer put up his hand. "Save it." He shouldered his bag, taking out his keys. "When you feel like being an adult and having an actual conversation with me, you can give me a call. Until then, consider growing up."

Without another word, Spencer turned toward the door, walking out and slamming it behind him.

He sat in his apartment, his leg tucked underneath himself, a glass of wine in his hand. Fighting with Derek was never easy on him, but he knew that this time, he wasn't in the wrong. In the past, they'd had arguments which he would gladly admit were his fault. The phone in his apartment was ringing, and he knew it was Derek attempting to get in touch with him: he wouldn't call his cell phone, because with caller ID, he knew Spencer wouldn't answer. He watched the phone until it stopped ringing, and hoped he'd get the hint. The one person he didn't want to talk to was definitely Derek, so when the phone finally stopped ringing for the night, he was relieved.

* * *

The next day, Spencer sat on the couch reading through a book. Sleeping hadn't helped him feel any less angry at Derek, so he decided it was safest to keep him out of sight and out of mind. He heard his cell phone start to ring and raised an eyebrow, setting in a bookmark and picking up the phone. He checked the caller ID and saw a number he wasn't familiar with. Figuring that it couldn't be Derek, he answered, sitting up.

"Hello?"

"…Doctor Reid?"

He got up, walking to the kitchen to pour himself a cup of coffee. "Mason?"

"Yeah, sorry, I should've probably introduced myself. I have a habit of forgetting that part of the conversation, in case you haven't noticed. Is this a bad time?"

He smiled to himself, pouring the sugar into the cup and stirring. "It's no problem, I do the same thing. What's up?"

"I'm working on my dissertation for Criminology, and I was wondering if I'd be able to bounce a few ideas off of you. If you're busy, I understand, but you said I could call-"

He sipped his coffee, setting it down on the counter. "It's no problem at all. Where do you want to meet?"

"I was thinking a coffee shop, if you'd like to pick one?"

He thought to himself. "There's a shop about four miles from the FBI building that's a little hole in the wall, do you know which one I'm talking about?"

"The one with the chalkboard specials outside and free refills?"

"That's the one." He checked his watch. "I can meet you there in about twenty, if that works."

"That sounds great, you're a lifesaver. Thank you so much."

"It's no trouble, believe me. I'll see you soon." He hung up, putting his phone in his pocket.

After finishing his cup of coffee, he packed a few of his Criminology books into his satchel, along with his wallet, cell phone, and a few notebooks. He tucked his glasses into the pocket before taking one final sweep of his apartment and putting the bag over his shoulder, walking out and locking the door behind him.

* * *

He sat in the coffee shop at a table with a large cup of coffee and the books stacked in front of him. It felt like yesterday that he was writing his own thesis for his Engineering PhD, and he remembered how much of a pain it had been. He hoped by helping, he could reduce some of the stress and help him have a successful paper to get him his Masters.

Mason sat down in front of him and he looked up.

"Sorry I'm late," he mumbled quickly, sitting down.

Spencer looked down and saw a stack of papers on top of his books. "…Is that it?"

"Yeah. If you look at the margins closely, I'm sure you can see my desperation."

He laughed softly. "I'm sure that's not the case. Do you mind if I read it?"

"Not at all!" he held it out to Spencer, who quickly took it. "I'm going to grab myself a drink first. If you feel a need to ridicule it, just save the opportunity for doing it directly to my face."

"I'm sure it's not that bad." He opened it, reading the title page. "'Understanding Evidence'?"

"Well, yeah. I'm trying to come up with the best way for anyone involved in criminology, whether they be profilers or CSI, to understand objects left behind and taken away from crime scenes in the case of a serial killer, where I compare the different theoretical models and try _not_ to just throw around a ton of terminology to make it seem like I'm a human dictionary."

He nodded, starting to read. "Go grab your drink, I'll let you know how it is when you get back."

Mason raised an eyebrow but nodded, leaving Spencer to read his paper.

When he came back to the table with a coffee and a bagel, Spencer set the paper down.

"…Done already?"

"For the second time, actually."

He winced, setting down his things and sitting in front of him. "How bad is it?"

"_Bad_? On the contrary, I think this paper is absolutely fantastic. It's insightful, it's not too terminology heavy, and it's able to get to the point without losing the reader in the content. I don't know why you need my help, really, because you seem to have a great handle on the subject matter."

"Truthfully? I wanted to be able to reference someone's firsthand experience, instead of having to dig through a book and find examples that anyone else using a similar subject matter is going to use."

Spencer raised his eyebrows, impressed. "You want to interview me for answers for your dissertation?"

"…If that's all right with you, of course."

"That's fine." He sat up straight, sipping his coffee. "So, what was your IQ getting into MENSA?"

"…Beg your pardon?"

"The way you write, there's no way your IQ is any lower than 150."

"It's 184, actually. Yours?"

Spencer smirked. "187, though 184 is definitely nothing to be ashamed of." He set his cup down, looking at his stack of books. "The third one down will give you some insight on investigating crime scenes, including a few chapters on evidence. The rest won't do you any good, but that one is yours for the borrowing."

He nodded, taking the book and tucking it into his backpack, before taking out a laptop and starting it up. "Are you sure this isn't a problem?"

"Not at all. Until my phone rings and tells me I need to be on a case in anywhere, USA, I'm all yours."

He smiled slightly. "Then let's get started."

* * *

After Mason had finished questioning him, he watched as the younger man diligently worked on his paper. He was taken back to his years in school, when he worked his tail off to get everything done as quickly and efficiently as possible. He had just grabbed his second cup of coffee when his phone started ringing in his pocket. Reaching in and taking it out, he saw Derek's name on the caller ID.

Mason took his fingers off the keys. "…Is that work? If you need to leave, I understand."

Spencer thought about it, and didn't remember ever feeling so comfortable talking with another individual in the bureau. He'd finally met somebody he could talk to on his level, and didn't feel the need to hold back his intelligence around him. He quickly shook his head, putting his phone on silent. "It's nothing that can't go to voicemail. Do you need any more help?"

He shook his head. "I think I'm all set for now, but it'd be nice to still have you here to throw ideas to, if that makes sense?"

"It makes perfect sense. I'm here as long as you need me."

"Are you sure? I'd think you'd have much better things to do on your Saturday than sit in a coffee shop with someone stressing over a dissertation that isn't even due for another three weeks."

He smirked, laughing slightly. "Trust me, there's nothing else for me to be doing right now. I actually don't mind it, considering I can help you if any other questions pop-up."

This answer seemed to suffice, and Mason kept typing.

"Have you ever had a case where the evidence was tainted?" he asked, not looking up from his screen.

Spencer nodded. "Just this year, we had that Zodiac case I was telling you about. As most people know, the cab driver was wearing a striped shirt and had O negative blood. There was a piece of striped fabric left at the scene soaked in O negative blood. Everyone automatically jumped the gun and assumed that the Zodiac was, in fact, back, instead of waiting for forensics to get back to us with the facts. The fabric was distressed to look old, and was in fact very new. Rossmore wanted us to _think_ the Zodiac was back, when he was simply a fan who strived to be him."

"That's fascinating," he said, continuing his typing. "Do you think I'll ever find something that interesting?"

"Oh, there's going to be plenty of things to keep your attention on the job. Not to mention injuries."

"…Injuries?"

"Let's see," Spencer started, adjusting in his seat. "In my eight years at the BAU? I've been beaten on multiple occasions, forced into addiction, held hostage, shot, _and_ poisoned, not to mention the emotional toll the job can take on you. But saving innocent people makes it worth every single second."

Mason gave him a smile before returning to his work.

* * *

An hour later, Mason turned the laptop around to him. "I think I'm finished. Do you mind reading?"

He shook his head. "Not at all. Just a fair bit of warning? I'm sort of a 'technophobe', as those closest to me put it, and if I press a button and fry your laptop, I hope you have this saved someone else."

He laughed. "I have it uploaded to Blackboard, so don't worry about it. There's nothing I mind losing on there and you can't _possibly_ mess up."

"Just remember that," he said, pulling the laptop closer to him and looking at the screen, pressing the down arrow as he read. "For future reference, I prefer hard copies – computers tend to slow me down, which is pretty much the opposite for everyone else on the face of the earth."

"Noted."

Spencer finished reading, turning the laptop around.

"It's bad, isn't it? I shouldn't have used so many examples, or I should've referenced the text, or-"

Spencer smirked, holding up his hand. "It's great. I don't think there's anything I could say or give you to improve on it."

He raised his eyebrows. "_Really_?"

"Seriously, it's amazing. You should definitely be proud of it."

Mason gave him a smile. "And my laptop remains in one piece. I'd say today was a success."

"Indeed." Spencer checked his watch, chewing on his cheek. "And because of my long tangents during my answers, it's already 6:00. Do you want to go pick up some dinner, on me?"

"On _you?_ Please, I took up your entire Saturday. Dinner's on me." He shut down his laptop before putting it into his backpack. He put it over his shoulder, looking at Spencer. "Is there anywhere else you need to be? If so, you can take a rain check on dinner."

Spencer remembered his argument with Derek and considered going to see him, but shook his head. "Absolutely nothing. Let's go."

* * *

"So you mean to tell me, there was a kid with an assault rifle on the loose, extremely mentally unstable, and your choice was to just talk him down? You didn't even have a gun or any form of protection on you?"

Spencer smiled, nodding. "He was a disturbed high school student who had been mentally abused for _years_. He didn't need a bullet in the chest to stop him. He needed somebody to talk to him like he was human."

"And nobody on your team thought otherwise?"

He shook his head, cutting into his chicken. "Considering my unit chief threatened my job on the flight home, he wasn't too happy with me. Not to mention I was blocking all of their shots when they _wanted_ to shoot him."

Mason raised an eyebrow. "You stood in the line of fire for this kid?"

"Well, I know none of my team members would've shot me, but yes. I understood him, I knew how he thought. The two us were extremely scarred from emotional trauma in our childhoods, and still feel the pain of it to this day. I couldn't let him be taken down like he was a hardened criminal."

He looked at Spencer, chewing on his cheek. "Which parent left?"

"Excuse me?"

"The way you talk about relating to him, and the fact that he lost his mother at a young age, the intonation of your voice… one of your parents either died or left. If you don't want to tell me, you don't have to, it's just-"

"You already have the makings of a great profiler," Spencer said, taking a sip of his wine. "My father left when I was ten, and my mother wasn't well, so I didn't have the best of childhoods."

"I'm so sorry-"

"After all these years, I've learned to cope." He shrugged it off, asking the waiter for a refill on his drink.

They were waiting for the check when Spencer felt a hand on his shoulder. He panicked, assuming it was Derek.

"How did the speech go this morning, Reid?"

He sighed, relieved, turning around to face Rossi. "Great, actually. Thanks for letting me fly solo on this one."

"Any time, kid."

He nodded slightly, before realizing that Mason was still there. He cleared his throat. "Sorry, David Rossi, this is Mason Adams, he'll be finishing up at the academy and joining the bureau in the next few months."

Rossi held out his hand to Mason, who quickly took it and shook. "_The_ David Rossi? It's an honor, sir. Your work is legendary."

Rossi chuckled, shaking his hand and turning to Spencer. "Reminds me of someone _else_, Reid."

Spencer smiled at Mason's confused look. "I um, I pretty much reacted the same way when he rejoined the bureau a few years back." He looked at Rossi. "A word?"

He nodded, walking toward the back. Spencer put a finger up to Mason. "This'll just take a second." He followed Rossi and leaned against the wall.

"You do realize you're in a relationship?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

"You're at a dinner with another guy on a Saturday night, looking pretty happy with yourself."

He swallowed. "I helped Mason finish his dissertation this afternoon, and to thank me for my help, he's paying for dinner. I'm just enjoying being able to have a conversation on my intellectual level for a change, instead of fearing that I'll continue to blabber on or drive away everyone with the way I speak."

"Really?"

He nodded. "Really. Derek and I are currently in an argument, and I needed to spend a few hours away from him. Mason called for help and I went to the coffee house to meet him. Nothing more."

"Just be careful, Reid."

"I will be."

Rossi gave him a nod, before patting his arm and walking back to his table. Spencer walked into the bathroom, leaning over the sink and splashing cold water on his face. He reached for a paper towel, wiping his face off, before pressing his palms into the counter, looking at his reflection. He knew exactly what he wanted to do, and hoped he could find it in him to forgive himself if it really happened. For once, he needed to be able to be with someone who understood him, not somebody he'd constantly feel a need to dumb himself down for. He cleared his throat, shaking his head and walking back to the table.

* * *

Spencer sat down across from him. "Sorry about that, work stuff."

Mason looked up at him. "Did something come up?"

He shook his head. "Nothing to worry about. Did the check come already?"

"Not yet. My guess is it gets so busy on Saturday nights they sort of forget about dropping off checks on tables they've finished with. I couldn't blame them, really, considering the amount of different things they need to remember on the job. And… I'm rambling, aren't I? I'm so sorry."

He smirked. "Trust me, I've done much worse."

"I doubt it."

"Believe me, I have! There are points on the job where the team actually has to tell me I'm being annoying, whether they say it outright, ignore me, shush me, snap at me, or immediately change the subject matter. I often go off on tangents that they can't get me off of without doing one of those, or coming up with a new way."

"…Do you think I'll have trouble adjusting to my team?"

He licked his lips, thinking. "Since I've joined the team, we've gotten me, our tech analyst, our former media/communications liaison, and two agents, in addition to losing a former unit chief, an agent, and two others temporarily. I had fears about not fitting in and having trouble adjusting, but the team actually took me in. The only problem was, because I was so young, they all looked at me as the younger sibling and felt a constant need to take care of me. So you should definitely prepare yourself for being treated like a child. You're working toward your doctorate? Your unit chief may start calling you 'Doctor Adams' instead of 'Agent Adams', so people take you more seriously."

"You're kidding me?"

"On the contrary, it's exactly what happened to me. There are still times to this _day_ that I'm called 'Doctor' instead of 'Agent'. It's a bit of a pet peeve, considering I no longer look too young to be in the bureau, but if it's between that and the team thinking nobody's taking me seriously? I'll take the former."

* * *

Their waiter walked over, setting the check on the table. "So sorry for the wait."

Mason took his wallet out, tucking his credit card into it. "Nothing to worry about. It's all set." He held it up to the waiter and watched as he walked away.

"I should pay you for at least some of it. I _did_ have three glasses of red wine tonight."

"For the 'A' I'm going to get on my dissertation? Trust me, it's no trouble."

The waiter walked back over and handed it back to him. Mason filled in the tip, signing the receipt and taking out his card. "Thank you." He then turned to Spencer. "It's been _amazing_ talking to you about the bureau and your past cases and everything on the job, Doctor Reid."

"_Doctor Reid_? Maybe that was what you could call me this morning, but after everything today, I think I've earned the right to be called by my first name."

"Right, sorry." He held out his hand. "It's been great, Spencer."

Spencer shook his hand, chewing on his cheek and thinking. "If you'd like, I'm available tonight. We could maybe go back to your place, and you could pick my brain as much as you'd like."

"…I've already taken up most of your afternoon and night, I couldn't ask you to-"

"…Only you're not asking, I'm offering."

Mason gave him a smile, before nodding. "That sounds great, thank you."

"It's no trouble at all." He put his bag on his shoulder, following Mason out to the parking lot and getting into his car.

Before getting into his own car, Mason turned to face Spencer. "You're sure about this? I mean, I don't want to take up time you don't have-"

"I have plenty, don't worry. And there aren't many people I talk to who actually enjoy my extensive knowledge of, well, everything, so I often feel the need to hold back on my intelligence. Around you, it's actually comfortable, and the fact that you actually want to hear what I have to say is very refreshing. I'm sure you still want some of your Saturday night to yourself, so I won't take that long."

"This may come as a surprise, but I _really_ don't have anything to do on a Saturday night. There's nobody banging on my door to make plans or making my cell phone go crazy with phone calls trying to do something or talk to me."

"Something else we have in common." Spencer reached in his pocket, taking out his cell phone. He saw a few missed calls from Derek, but cleared them, turning his phone off and shoving it into his bag.

* * *

When he pulled up to Mason's apartment, Spencer got out, picking up his bag.

"It's not much, but it's a place to call home," Mason said, getting out of his car and locking it. He walked around, going up to the front door and unlocking it, Spencer following behind.

"I'm sure it's fine." He stepped inside, following Mason to his apartment, then walking inside after he unlocked the door. The apartment reminded him of his own, with several bookshelves lining the walls. The only obvious difference was the fact that Mason had a large television in the living room and a computer in the corner: Spencer only had his work computer and had a much smaller television that he'd watch Doctor Who on when a new episode would premiere. He stepped inside, walking over to the couch and sitting down, setting his bag beside the couch.

"Can I get you a drink?" Mason called from the kitchen. "Some water, juice, maybe another glass of wine to wash down the first three?"

He smirked. "A water's just fine, thanks."

Mason walked in, sitting down beside him and holding out a water bottle. Spencer took it, sipping it and setting it down on the table.

"Have you ever taken a case personally?" he asked, leaning back against the couch and looking at Spencer.

Spencer swallowed, clearing his throat. "Other than the Owen Savage case? Yes, actually. The first one that comes to mind is Adam Jackson. He was disturbed, and he had a female personality, Amanda. She would lure men to her hotel room, then rape them and asphyxiate them. Then she'd check out of the room for them, and leave, so all evidence was destroyed."

"…How did you take that personally?"

"Well, I felt sorry for Adam. His father would beat him and make him dress as a female, and more likely than not, molested him. He was eventually put into foster care, and bounced between homes. He emancipated himself, did poorly in school, was extremely socially awkward, committed petty crimes, and had charges of drug possession. The marijuana seemed to be what fueled Amanda to come out."

"…That is a _lot_ to take on."

He nodded. "He asked me when he could close his eyes and not see those images again, and truthfully, I still have moments where I still have them, so I didn't have an answer. All I wanted was justice for Adam, but when Amanda had Adam's father at knifepoint, we talked her down and he walked free, while Amanda was institutionalized and Adam seemed to disappear completely. Adam had no idea what Amanda was capable of, and all Amanda wanted to do was keep Adam safe. I tried going back to talk to Amanda on several occasions, to see if I could get Adam back, but… he was gone for good. Amanda's personality completely took over, and she's not going to let Adam out so he can get in trouble."

"You visited on company time?"

"No, I actually went on my own. On days off or whenever I was in the area, to try to see if I could get her to talk about him, but it never happened."

"Does this happen to everybody in the bureau?"

"Definitely. We've all taken cases too personally or had them affect us. It just happens. Rossi ended up holding onto a case for twenty years before he was finally able to solve it and give three kids closure on losing their parents."

He raised his eyebrows, exhaling. "No wonder my professor talks about alcoholism being a problem."

"Alcoholism and narcotics abuse. I'm not going into detail, but the job definitely takes its toll on your life. It affects you mentally, physically, and does a wonder on relationships, which is sort of why there are multiple rules and seminars against dating fellow agents." He cleared his throat, shaking his head. "But that's broken all the time. Most of the rules are in place because of things Rossi did in the past."

"Are you serious?"

He laughed softly, nodding. "Quite the ladies' man with three past wives. I'm sure when you join the bureau, you'll hear about it plenty."

* * *

There was a comfortable silence for a few minutes before Mason finally spoke up. "Spencer?"

Spencer looked up into Mason's eyes and saw curiosity, which he'd always seen in himself. He resisted the urge to smile. "Yeah?"

He exhaled, setting his bottle down. "Am I too forward in thinking that there are, for lack of a better word, _feelings_ here?"

He cleared his throat, chewing on his cheek.

"…I am, aren't I? Wow, I am _so_ sorry, we can just pretend that didn't happen. I usually don't take social cues well, and this situation is quite obviously no different than the rest. I should just – you should go."

Spencer bit his lip, shaking his head. "You're not – you're taking social cues just fine, Mason. Really." He shifted closer, running a hand through Mason's hair.

"This isn't a prank of some sort, is it? Trust me, it wouldn't be the first time, and you could break it to me."

He shook his head again. "I promise, it's genuine."

In the back of his mind, Spencer was replaying Derek on the dance floor with countless attractive single women, throwing themselves at him. He remembered Derek not refusing any of them, and practically having sex with them right there and then. It didn't matter to him that he was in a relationship, all that mattered was making Spencer jealous. He knew that two could play at this game, and he was about to even the score.

Mason leaned in, before hesitantly pulling back. "…You just said there are multiple rules in place, prohibiting relationships between agents."

"That's true, but _technically_ speaking, you're not going to be an agent for another three months."

"…Has anyone ever told you that you're a genius, Spencer Reid?"

He smirked. "Once or twice."

Mason leaned in again, and Spencer took the opportunity, wrapping an arm around his neck and pulling him in, kissing him. He was extremely relieved when Mason responded as he wanted, kissing him back. He threaded a hand in his hair, before slipping his tongue into the younger man's mouth. He couldn't believe how amazing he _tasted_: he recalled kissing Derek and couldn't remember him ever tasting this good. Then his mind stayed on the subject of Derek and he pulled back, screwing his eyes shut.

"…I'm sorry, did I do something wrong?"

He shook his head, exhaling. He had to clear Derek out of his head: he needed his revenge for what Derek did, and he was going to get it. He swallowed, willing himself not to get upset, and looked at Mason. "Everything's fine, don't worry about it."

Kissing led to touching, touching led to undressing, and undressing led to the bedroom. Mason was a much different lover than Derek. Where it felt like Derek wanted it to go quickly, Mason wanted to take everything slow. Where it felt like Derek only wanted to take, all Mason wanted to do was give. Something about being with Mason felt, for lack of a better word, right. He never wanted it to end, and once it was over, Mason bit his lip, turning to face Spencer.

"Are you okay?"

He nodded, smiling to himself. "I'm fine. Thank you." His mind was still slightly hazy, but he wrapped an arm around him, kissing his forehead.

Mason seemed comfortable with him and the two of them talked for nearly an hour before Mason started to doze off.

He yawned softly. "I'm sorry, it's been a long day."

Spencer looked at him. "Don't worry about it. I'm not insulted."

He nodded, before slowly drifting off.

When Spencer felt his labored breathing, it all suddenly hit him. Not only did he get his revenge on Derek, but he definitely did something that would make Derek hate him. He not only took it a step too far – he took it farther than anything ever should've gone. He didn't just hurt Derek, he also hurt Mason, who was completely innocent. Whatever just happened wasn't going to be permanent, and was simply a one-time thing. He definitely led Mason on, and in a few months time, he was going to be extremely awkward to bump into at work. Attempting to swallow the growing lump in his throat, he sat up, groaning to himself. This wasn't the Spencer Reid he was used to, and it definitely wasn't a Spencer Reid he would ever be proud of.


	3. Chapter 3

_Sneaking out the bedroom cursing, tripping on his stuff. Looking for my car keys while I'm pulling my jeans up. I make sure I'm out before I turn my phone back on: I've got five missed calls._

He got off the bed, pulling on his boxers and walking out to the living room. He rummaged through his satchel, taking out a notebook and pen. He knew he couldn't sum everything up that happened into a note, but he was definitely going to try, especially considering his fear of confrontation. He thought long and hard before writing down his entire apology, taking up several pages. Exhaling, he took them out of the notebook, folding them and sticking them in an envelope. Walking back into the bedroom, he propped the envelope up on his alarm clock. He looked down at the sleeping Mason and got a heavy feeling in his gut. With what he did tonight, he didn't just get back at Derek, he drove away two people that meant something to him.

He stumbled around, gathering up his clothes and getting dressed as quickly as he could. He grabbed his car keys off the floor beside his pants, before pulling them on. He took one final look at Mason before sighing, tying his shoes and walking out of the apartment. As he got in the car, he remembered turning his phone off and reached in his bag for it. Pulling it out of his bag, he turned it on as he started his car.

"Please don't tell me he called. Please don't tell me he called. Please don't tell me called," he mumbled to himself, watching as the phone loaded. He felt relieved when he saw the phone start up with no notifications, but it was short-lived when it beeped a few seconds later. He screwed his eyes shut, taking a deep breath, before checking the notifications. They were all missed calls – five of them, all from Derek. Sure, he was thankful that none of them were the team letting him know there was a case and thus, putting him in deep trouble at work, but the fact that Derek wanted to talk to him that many times and he was preoccupied in somebody else's bed made his stomach turn.

_Can't believe what I just did I lost myself tonight. I just gotta get to you, the guilt's making me drive. I stumble in, I wake you up, but when you look at me I just can't speak._

He swallowed, doing his best to compose himself, but doing a miserable job. He couldn't let Derek see him upset, then he'd know exactly what he did that night, and that would lead to an argument where he was definitely in the wrong. In his mind, he just had to get to Derek and spend the night with him. Wiping his eyes, he exhaled, pulling up to Derek's apartment building. He wrung his hands on the steering wheel a few times before taking a deep breath, grabbing his go-bag from the backseat and getting out.

When he made it to Derek's door, he dug through his bag for the key to his apartment, trying to push his nerves aside. Putting the key in the lock, he sighed, unlocking it and walking inside. He looked around the apartment and saw that it was pitch black, though he could hear Clooney running up to him. He bent down, scratching behind his ear and smiling to himself. The one thing he could always count on was Clooney missing him, and if Derek took this the wrong way, it was one thing about their relationship he was definitely going to miss.

He stood up, straightening himself, with the full intention of walking into the bedroom and confessing what he'd just done. He took a few breaths before walking toward the bedroom, ready to put it out there, because the longer he hid it, the worse it would be. When the door opened, he froze.

"Hey, Spencer. I didn't know you were coming by," Derek said hazily, running a hand over his scalp.

He stood there, dumbstruck, unsure of what he was doing. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out.

_'Cause you're the only one, the only one, who ever gave a damn. And it's killing me to know you think I'm better than I am. Came over here to tell the truth, but lookin' in your eyes. Baby sometimes, it's easier to lie._

"Listen, about everything," Derek started, leaning against the doorframe. "I'm sorry. I should've known that the kid was just looking for some guidance and a role model, and you're a hell of a role model for him to choose. I'm sorry for automatically getting jealous of the two of you. It was wrong."

Spencer bit his lip, still trying to form words unsuccessfully.

"And I understand that sometimes I can be a lot to deal with. I appreciate your honesty, and I'm sorry if I've ever offended you with my actions."

_Now is your chance, Spencer. Put it out there. He'll be mad, but not nearly as mad as he will be if you keep this is a secret from him. It'll tear him up inside and you know it._

"It wasn't fair for me to go after you or say anything about Mason. Considering how many times I've made myself look like a jackass, you didn't deserve it."

_Spencer, for the love of God, he's giving you an in, take it._

"I just need to take Clooney for a walk, then we can talk, if that's okay with you?"

All he could do was nod, and he pushed past Derek to walk into the bedroom. When he heard Derek leave the apartment, he took the opportunity to hop in the shower, cleaning off the smell of sex. The entire time, he allowed himself to cry, getting everything out of his system before Derek could come back and see him upset. Usually, if Derek saw him like this, he wouldn't stop bothering him until he knew why. He absolutely couldn't handle doing that tonight, especially considering his actions.

He stepped out, drying himself and wrapping a towel around his waist. He wiped off some of the steam on the mirror, staring at his reflection. In that moment, he had never hated himself so much. After everything he'd been through, including narcotic addiction and withdrawals, he never disliked himself to this extent. He gripped the counter, willing himself not to get upset again. When Derek came back, plain and simple, he had to tell him the truth. He had to find a way to put it out there and deal with the repercussions, before it got to a point where he found out from somebody else. Rossi had seen the two of them at the restaurant, and even if he wasn't an expert profiler, he could probably put two and two together.

"Spencer?" Derek called out, hanging up Clooney's leash and tossing him a treat.

He cleared his throat, shaking his head. "I just needed to take a quick shower, I'll be there in a minute."

"What, you didn't want me to join you?"

He laughed nervously. "Sorry, I just really want to get some sleep. It's been a long day," he called out, drying himself off and opening his go-bag, taking out his pajamas and getting dressed. He took one final look in the mirror before sighing, shaking his head and turning away, walking toward the bedroom.

_You know that I've been crying so you ask what's going on. Your arm's around my shoulder you've got no clue what I've done. 'Cause you don't see the guilt in me, and that just makes it worse. Yeah it just makes it worse._

Spencer leaned against the headboard, arms crossed, still trying to think of a way to put everything out on the table without Derek hating him. When he heard Derek walking toward the bedroom, he closed his eyes, exhaling.

"Everything okay?" Derek asked, kicking off his shoes and setting them beside the bed.

He gave him a slight nod. "It's just a headache, I'm fine."

"You sure you don't need anything for it? I have some stuff in the medicine cabinet I could grab for you-"

"I'm fine, really. It'll pass. They always do."

Derek looked at him cautiously, before sitting down next to him, pulling the blanket over their legs and mimicking Spencer's position.

He glanced over at him and smiled slightly. "Yes, dear?"

"Rossi said he saw you two out at some restaurant tonight."

He swallowed, chewing on his cheek. "Oh?"

"Told me that you spent all afternoon helping him finish his dissertation for his Criminology class, and he took you out to dinner to thank you."

He nodded slightly. "I offered, considering I had a few glasses of wine with dinner, but I helped him so much with his work that he wanted to somehow repay me."

"Is that why you're getting in so late?"

He quickly shook his head. "We were having a discussion about the job and we didn't want it to end at the restaurant, so we went back to his place to talk about past cases, so he knows exactly what to expect when he comes to the bureau… or so he at least has a general idea. Going into this job blind is definitely intimidating, and I wouldn't wish it on anybody."

Derek smirked. "Isn't that the truth?"

He sighed, willing himself not to get upset again. He could feel himself tearing up and knew that's the one thing Derek couldn't see from him right now. He tried to push it away, but was failing miserably.

Derek turned to face him, eyebrow raised. "Hey, are you okay?"

He licked his lips, nodding and taking a shaky breath. "I'm fine," he said, quickly wiping his eyes and dismissing it, sniffling.

Derek reached a hand over, running his thumb under Spencer's eye. "Crying doesn't mean you're fine, Spencer. Come on." He wrapped an arm around his shoulder, rubbing his arm. "You can tell me what's wrong, I promise."

_How exactly does one put 'I slept with somebody else to get back at you' into words without causing any form of backlash?_

Derek squeezed his arm reassuringly, before resuming rubbing it. "It's okay, Spencer."

He sighed, leaning his head over and resting it on Derek's shoulder.

"Did something happen with Mason tonight?"

He bit down on his lip, screwing his eyes shut and nodding slightly.

"What's wrong? What happened?"

He looked up at Derek and saw the concern written all over his face. The self-loathing was currently at an all-time high and he had to swallow the bile coming up his throat at the thought of what he did. He shook his head, getting the thoughts out of his head, at least temporarily. "We talked about old cases that I took personally, and I remembered Adam Jackson and Tobias Hankel, and-"

Derek put a finger to his lips. "You don't need to say anything else." He wrapped his other arm around Spencer, pulling him closer to him and kissing the top of his head. Spencer blinked away tears as Derek comforted him, doing his best to make him feel better, even though he didn't deserve it.

"I'm sorry," he choked out, sniffing. "I'm so sorry."

"You have nothing to be sorry about, Pretty Boy," he whispered, placing a kiss on his temple and rubbing his back. "It happens, and we've all done it before. Anyone on the team who says they haven't cried over a case is a liar. We've all taken it home with us, and we've all had a case affect us, though yours are definitely better left in the back of your head somewhere, away from that super brain."

He smiled slightly, sniffing and nodding. He didn't know why, but he was accepting Derek making him feel better, even though it was the last thing he needed or deserved right now. Derek continued to calm him down until his breathing had slowed down again. He pulled the two of them down and pulled Spencer's body against his, kissing the top of his head and rubbing circles on his back.

"You're fine, Spencer," he whispered. "You're safe, and nothing's going to hurt you. I'm here, I promise."

He sniffed, nodding against Derek's chest and sighing. He wasn't fine, his relationship wasn't safe, and he was pretty sure Derek would hurt him, emotionally, if he ever found out what happened. He definitely knew that he wouldn't be there anymore if he'd told the truth, so for the time being, it was easier to just live a lie and let Derek think what he wanted. The question was how long he'd be able to live with himself doing this.

_'Cause you're the only one, the only one, who ever gave a damn. And it's killing me to know you think I'm better than I am. Came over here to tell the truth, but lookin' in your eyes. Baby sometimes it's easier to lie. It's easier to lie. It's so easy._

Spencer woke up sometime later and saw Derek fast asleep beside him. He tried pulling away from his grip, but that only made him hold on tighter. He sighed, thinking to himself. He could tell Derek the truth right now and deal with the consequences, and still be able to salvage their relationship. He cleared his throat, nudging Derek's shoulder.

"Derek," he whispered, leaning over and placing a kiss on his cheek.

"Hm?" he mumbled, still half-asleep.

Spencer chewed on his cheek, leaning over and kissing him on the lips. When the kiss was returned, he smiled to himself, pulling back.

Derek opened his eyes, looking at him. "Yes, Pretty Boy?" he asked, his voice raspy.

He took a deep breath, opening his mouth, but once again, nothing came out. He sighed, biting his lip. "…I love you."

Derek smirked, kissing his forehead. "I love you too." He kept his grip on Spencer as he fell asleep again, and all Spencer could do was sit awake and think.

Throughout the night, he went through several scenarios in his head. In some of them, Derek took the news well and forgave him, and he could only hope that would be the outcome when it did actually happen. Unfortunately, there were other scenarios much closer to what probably would happen, in which Derek yelled, screamed, broke up with him, and never forgave him for what he did, making both of their work situations extremely awkward.

After this, most of the night was spent figuring out a way to tell him. Yes, lying seemed to be a good option, but he could only do it for so long. There had to come a point where he told him the truth, sooner rather than later. He contemplated several ways to go about telling him, but nothing seemed to feel right – then again, nothing about being in this situation felt right either. When he finally came up with something that he deemed acceptable, he sighed, moving closer to him.

"I may be half-asleep, Spencer, but I can still hear you thinking over here," he mumbled.

Spencer yawned. "It's actually impossible to hear somebody think, Derek, unless you possess the power of telepathy, which I highly doubt, or just being around me would put you to sleep on a daily basis." Derek snored loudly, mocking him and Spencer swatted his hand at his chest. "You're not funny."

"I happen to think I'm hilarious." He pulled Spencer closer, running his fingers through his hair. "Now go to _sleep_."

He nodded slightly, resting his head on Derek's shoulder and finally getting some much needed sleep.

* * *

The next morning, he woke up early. He slipped out of Derek's arms after some difficulty, walking out to the kitchen and turning on the coffeemaker. Derek's mother had once told him the way to Derek's heart was through his stomach, and he was definitely going to test that theory. He looked through the fridge, taking out as many as ingredients as he could find to make a big breakfast. Within a half hour, he'd successfully made bacon, fruit salad, oatmeal, scrambled eggs, toast, and pancakes. He felt proud of himself and set everything out on the table, before walking to the bedroom and leaning over Derek, kissing his cheek.

"Hm?" Derek asked, head still buried in his pillow.

"Breakfast is waiting," he whispered, kissing his cheek.

"Breakfast you say?" Derek said, sitting up and stretching.

"All of your favorites," Spencer confirmed. "Now are you going to get out of bed, or are you going to let Clooney find his way on the table and enjoy it for himself?"

He smirked, leaning over and kissing Spencer's cheek, before getting out of bed, walking out to the kitchen.

Spencer took a deep breath, bracing himself for what he had to do next, and walked out to the kitchen, sitting across from Derek.

"Do you like it?"

"This looks amazing. What's the occasion?"

He chewed on his cheek. "Just because."

"Well, I appreciate it." He filled up his plate and started eating, and Spencer hoped the news would be better taken on a full stomach.

While Derek was eating, Spencer was debating in his mind whether he should tell him. If he did, he'd definitely be furious, and he was almost positive he wouldn't be in a relationship anymore. If he delayed it as long as possible, he could maybe soften the blow later down the road. However, if he waited, he also faced the possibility of him finding out from someone else. Mason had been a nice, kind-hearted person, but he doubted that would remain when he woke up in the morning to an empty bed and a long letter on his nightstand filled with apologies. He hadn't exactly met Derek, but he'd met Rossi, and he couldn't get something Derek once said out of his head. _Cops talk. Pissed off cops talk loud._ While they weren't exactly cops, they were agents, and agents often talked about their personal lives, considering they didn't get much of them with the job. He could tell somebody who knows somebody who knows somebody on the team. Derek finding out through the grapevine was definitely going to be more painful in the end, and he knew he had to tell him.

After breakfast, they sat on the couch together, watching a movie. Spencer kept to himself, trying to figure out the best way to go about it. He'd already lied to Derek last night and this morning, so he didn't need to do it anymore. The key to their relationship was honesty, and he needed to stop lying at this point in time. He had his head rested on Derek's shoulder and stared at the television, not taking it in. Instead, he was focused on finding the one answer he didn't have.

Sometime later, Derek looked down at him, running a hand through his hair.

"Are you still with me?"

He nodded slightly, putting a finger to his lips and pointing to the screen. When Derek smirked and patted his arm, he cursed to himself. He had just told himself that he needed to stop lying, and he just did it again. The lying had to stop, and the truth needed to come out, soon. He continued watching the movie with Derek, finally paying attention to it. Much like every other movie Derek chose for them to watch, it was an action movie with little to no plot and a lot of violence. Spencer never said anything, because he knew it was what Derek enjoyed, though he didn't know why, considering their lives were filled with action and violence. He liked it when Derek would choose a comedy for the two of them, because then at least he could get a laugh out of it.

When the movie was over, Derek shrugged his shoulder, which caused Spencer's head to shoot up.

"You okay, my little gopher? You were quiet during the movie. It was shot in D.C. and I didn't even hear _one_ inaccuracy coming from your mouth. What's watching a movie if I don't have you telling me everything they did wrong?"

He smiled slightly, shrugging. "Sorry."

"Did you have too many drinks last night?"

He shook his head. "Just a little tired. I'm fine."

Derek looked at him, concerned, before getting up and walking to the kitchen, looking through the cabinets. "I was thinking I'll make dinner tonight, and maybe tomorrow morning before work, we can stop at that little coffee shop you love so much."

"…Why?"

"Because I've been acting like a real jackass, and you deserve to be treated right."

He sighed, shaking his head. "I don't."

"What are you talking about? Spencer, you're one of the nicest, understanding, brightest people that I know. I've been a jerk, and I'm sorry."

"Don't," he said softly.

"Really, I am. You don't deserve a boyfriend who acts like a dick in public when he's had a drink or two. You deserve someone who treats you like you matter, and that you're the only one, and-"

Spencer groaned. "I don't deserve _anything_, Derek. I don't. I'm not worth being treated like I matter, and I'm the single worst person on the face of this planet."

"…Spencer, what's wrong?" he asked, walking toward the living room.

Spencer put his hands up, stepping back from him. "Don't."

"Spencer-"

He knew he had to come right out and saw it. He screwed his eyes shut, taking a deep breath. "…I cheated."


	4. Chapter 4

"You what?"

He swallowed before looking up at Derek. "…I cheated."

"On your Philosophy homework, right? You were busy on a case and couldn't get an assignment done, so you pulled a typical student move and pulled everything from Wikipedia, putting your name on it. Spencer, everyone's done it, it's nothing to be ashamed of."

He sniffed, shaking his head and chewing on his lip. He could feel himself tearing up and knew this wasn't the time for him to be getting upset. He crossed his arms, exhaling. "I… I was so mad of going out with you and time after time, seeing you practically hook up with random women right in front of me. It happened over and over again, and I wanted you to feel a fraction of what I did when I had to watch you with them." He took a shaky breath, chewing on his cheek. "So I initiated something last night."

"You _initiated_? What _exactly_ did you initiate? With _who_?"

He winced. "I… I helped Mason, and there were obvious feelings on his end, but in the back of my mind, I didn't want to do anything, because I've been in a relationship for a few years. But then as the night progressed, I remembered going out to bars and being treated like an outcast by you when you went out on the dance floor."

"So?"

"…So I asked Mason if we could go back to his place and continue our discussions. One thing led to another, and I kissed him." He looked up at Derek, hoping for some sort of response.

"You _kissed_ someone else?" Derek stepped forward, hurt etched all over his face. "Spencer, I never- no matter what I do with those women, it's not about sex or a relationship. It's nothing, and I've told you that. You went out and made out with another man because I was _dancing_?"

He took another shaky breath, sighing. "That's not it," he whispered.

"Excuse me?"

He sniffed, licking his lips. "I led him on. I let him think I was attracted to him. While I enjoyed talking to him on an intellectual level, and being able to relate to somebody, there weren't _those_ feelings between us, though I let him think there were. My motive was revenge, and it shouldn't have been, and I'm so sorry."

"…Spencer, _what_ are you sorry for?"

"I-um, one thing led to another, and we, uh, we may have ended up-"

"Spencer," Derek snapped.

He reached up, wiping his eyes, knowing he just had to say it. He was already this far into it, and there was no way he could come up with a lie to cover this. Looking up at Derek, he looked him right in the eyes."I slept with Mason," he said, practically a whisper, stepping back.

At first, Derek stood there, unsure of how to react. Spencer saw his face slowly showing signs of hurt and disgust, along with hints of anger. Whatever happened next, Spencer knew that he deserved it.

"So, because I was dancing with strange women that I'm never going to see again and have no possible sexual attraction to, considering they're not my type, you decided that _sleeping with someone_ was the best payback? I thought you were a genius, Spencer. That is the single most stupid thing I've ever heard. _How_ can somebody who's so smart do something so disgusting and spiteful? What's the matter with you?"

He swallowed, sniffing. "I…I don't know. It was an accident. I wasn't thinking."

"An _accident_? Tell me, Spencer, how do you _accidentally_ sleep with another man?"

"…You don't, I guess. I just. I didn't think about what I was doing, I just did it."

"And _nothing_ in that brain of yours said 'I'm in a relationship, I shouldn't be doing this'?"

He shook his head, sighing. "It didn't come to mind. It wasn't the alcohol and I wasn't in my right mind, and I regretted it right after, I swear."

"Did you?" Derek spat out. "Did you _really_? Because I'd think regret would set in before you take your clothes off and have somebody on top of you."

"I'm sorry," he choked out. "I understand if you hate me and don't want to see me right now, because believe me, I'm disgusted with myself more than I ever have been."

"You should be." Derek walked over, holding the front door open. "I think you should go."

He bit his lip, nodding, grabbing his satchel off the floor. He walked over, looking Derek in the eyes. Unsure of what to do, he rested a hand on Derek's cheek. Derek looked away and he sighed, placing a kiss on Derek's cheek. "I still love you, Derek," he said softly. "I promise, I never wanted to hurt you."

When Derek kept his expression unreadable, he chewed on his cheek, walking out. The door closed behind him and he leaned against the wall, burying his head in his hands and sliding down the wall. Self-loathing was an understatement in that moment and unable to move, he just stayed there on the floor, crying. Lying had felt better, and the truth definitely hurt. He wasn't ready to face Derek again soon, but with work in the morning, it was inevitable.

Spencer stayed up most of the night: half of the time was spent crying, the other half panicking about going to work the next morning. Avoiding Derek at work definitely wasn't an option, considering they were on the same team. If they were called on a case, it would be even worse, since they wouldn't be able to get away from each other, on the jet or otherwise. He sat up in bed, his head buried in his hands, unsure of what he was supposed to do. Derek had been right – for a genius, he'd done the stupidest possible thing in the situation. He could've talked to Derek and expressed his unhappiness for the umpteenth time. Even though it wouldn't have done anything, it'd be a lot better than what he was currently going through.

He also thought about Mason – how would he react to Spencer? Would he hate him? If he did, he definitely couldn't blame him. There was no possible way he could put how sorry he felt into that letter, but he'd tried his damndest. If he ever had to face Mason again, he wasn't sure he'd be able to express how much of an ass he was and put his apology into words that Mason deserved. He sniffed, wiping his eyes and exhaling. All he wanted was for the last 48 hours of his life to not exist. He wished he could go back in time and never go out to dinner with Mason, which meant he never would've considered going back to his place and sleeping with him.

It finally dawned on him that this news would get to the team, whether Derek told him directly or not. The entire team would know that he was unfaithful and had been extremely spiteful. They definitely wouldn't look at him the same anymore, and they'd all turn their backs on him. This brought on the first panic attack he'd had in a while, and usually Derek had calmed him down from them. There was obviously no chance of that this time, so he sat up in bed, attempting to catch his breath, for several minutes before he finally calmed down. He laid back, running a hand over his face and sighing, before his body finally let him get some sleep.

* * *

His alarm started going off much earlier than he'd liked. When it started going off, he hit it, contemplating going back to bed and avoiding any possible confrontations that day. Yes, it would be the move of a coward, but he also wanted nothing more than to avoid seeing Derek at all costs. Unfortunately, he knew he couldn't skip work and sighed, getting up and walking to the kitchen, making himself some coffee. After his second cup, he walked to his room, looking through his closet. He pulled on his shirt, buttoning it carefully, before finishing getting dressed. He grabbed his bag from beside the door and took a deep breath, before grabbing his keys and walking outside, locking the door behind him.

The entire commute was spent internally panicking, trying to figure out the best way to avoid running into Derek. It was definitely inevitable, but he wanted to put it off as long as possible. Walking into the bullpen, he went to the kitchen, making another cup of coffee, before waking over to his desk, setting it down and grabbing a case file. Luckily, he was in before anyone else, so he could avoid any awkward conversations about their weekends. He gave Emily a quick wave when she came in, sitting beside him, and another to JJ when she sat at her own desk.

For the most part, he was able to stay buried in his work. When Derek walked in, Emily raised an eyebrow, turning to Spencer.

"What, no cautious couple greeting this morning? I know you two don't do PDA, but you don't flat out ignore each other either."

He swallowed, clicking his pen and setting it down. He looked up at her, giving her a quick shrug, before biting his lip and looking at his work.

Emily eyed JJ, who got up from her desk and walked over to the kitchen, leaning against the counter while Derek was making his coffee.

"What's up?" she asked, crossing her arms.

He shrugged. "Nothing, it's a typical Monday morning."

She shook her head. "A typical Monday morning is you walking over to Spence's desk, whispering something in his ear that makes him blush, and walking away, very proud of yourself for whatever it is you just said."

He poured his coffee, putting in his sugar and stirring. "I just didn't want to this morning. I have my reasons for avoiding him."

Spencer overheard him and bit his lip, willing himself not to get upset and looking back at his work.

"That's a little harsh. Did something happen with you two?"

"Why don't you ask _him_?" he snapped, motioning toward Spencer and picking up his coffee mug. He took a sip and walked over, giving Emily a nod and a good morning, walking past Spencer and toward his office.

When JJ walked over, she rolled her chair over to Spencer's desk. "What was that about?"

He opened his mouth, trying to find an answer, but came up empty. He shook his head, trying not to start crying in the bullpen, and went right back to his work.

* * *

Spencer was proud of himself for how well he was able to keep his composure around Derek. Not once during that first day back at work did he have any run-ins with him, nor did he feel a need to break down after the initial interaction that morning. At the end of the work day, he was extremely relieved to finally get out of work. He put his bag over his shoulder and walked out to the elevators, pressing the  
down button. JJ walked up behind him, rubbing his shoulder.

"Feeling okay?" she asked.

He nodded slightly. "I'm fine, why?"

"That, for lack of a better word, altercation with Derek earlier, it was kind of cold on his part."

He tried not to tense up and shrugged it off, tapping his foot and waiting for the elevator door to open. It finally did and they stepped inside, him reaching over to press the button for the ground floor.

"Hold the elevator!" someone called out. Spencer instantly recognized it as Derek's voice and pressed the door open button. Derek walked up to the elevator and saw Spencer and JJ waiting inside.

"You coming?" JJ asked, stepping back.

He shook his head. "I'll opt for the scenic route today," he said, putting his headphones on and walking toward the stairs, turning on his mp3 player.

"What was that about?" Emily asked, stepping inside.

JJ looked over at Spencer for an answer, but he shrugged, keeping a straight face as the elevator doors closed.

This was one of many awkward interactions between the two during the work week. On Tuesday morning, Spencer walked into the break area while Derek was putting his lunch in the fridge, and opted to drink the cold coffee at his desk instead. Later that day, Spencer accidentally grabbed a fax that Derek was waiting for from the Austin PD. Rather than delivering it to him, he handed it to Rossi as he was headed to Derek's office. Several times Wednesday, the two avoided each other at all costs in the break room and on the job.

Thursday afternoon, Spencer sat at his desk, clicking his tongue.

"What's going on in that head, Reid?"

"I forgot to bring lunch today and I don't think I'll last until the day's over. Maybe I'll go grab something in a little bit, because if I have to stare at this case file from Albuquerque any longer, it might end up being thrown at the wall."

She laughed softly, shaking her head. "I wasn't aware a case file could turn you into a violent person."

"When it's taking their PD two hours to get back to me with a report they just need to fax over? Trust me, it could."

She smirked, shaking her head and looking back at her own work.

A few minutes later, Garcia walked up to Spencer's desk, leaning against it. "Up, Boy Wonder."

He looked up at her. "Excuse me?"

"Come on, we're going to lunch, I'm buying."

He raised an eyebrow, getting up. "Really?"

"Yeah, you need a couple's outing. Me, you, and the wonderfully delicious chocolate Thor. What more could you want?"

He sat back down in his seat. "That sounds like an amazing idea, but I really need to finish this case file from the Albuquerque PD in the next half hour. I need to call them up and get the report sent over soon so I can close it and finish the rest on my desk. Some other time?"

"You sure?"

He nodded. "Yeah, I'm fine, I had a big breakfast anyway. I'd just spend the whole time picking at my food, and I know you hate when I do that, so I'd rather another time, if that's okay?"

She frowned. "_Fine_, then I guess it's just me and your man. I can't promise I won't try to steal him away."

He smiled slightly and gave her a shrug, watching as she walked away.

"What was that about?" Emily asked, pointing to the doorway with her pen.

"What was what about?" he replied, looking at the case file, trying to find the phone number.

"Not ten minutes ago, you were complaining that you were starving, and now that Garcia offers to take you out to lunch, you're suddenly full and _need_ to finish the case file you're trying to get away from? What's the deal?"

He looked up at her. "I'm fine, can we drop it, please?"

"Are you sure?"

He nodded, opening his desk drawer and taking out a can of mixed nuts. He started snacking on them and finally found the phone number, picking up his phone and dialing.

Emily eyed JJ. "Any ideas?"

She gave her a slight shrug. "No clue."

* * *

This type of attitude kept up for both of them throughout the week. Spencer would tiptoe around Derek, and Derek would avoid going near Spencer. If they somehow ended up in the same area, Spencer would back away before Derek had the opportunity to say something that could be construed as harmful. The one thing Spencer didn't want was for anyone on the team to catch on to what was going on and have to explain himself.

When it was time to leave on Friday, Spencer was sure to wait for Derek to leave before he started packing up his things. He walked up the stairs to his apartment and there was a box waiting outside his door. He hadn't remembered ordering anything, but picked it up, unlocking the door and walking inside. After setting the box on the table, he threw his bag down beside the couch, sitting down. There wasn't a label or anything of the such attached to the box, but it had been taped shut. He ran his fingernail along the tape and opened the box, inspecting the contents. He felt his heart sink when he pulled out several things that he'd left at Derek's apartment, including his books, his spare pair of glasses, clothes, and the toys he'd bought for Clooney. He screwed his eyes shut, exhaling, not wanting this to get the best of him. He was already upset enough and didn't need Derek adding insult to injury. He threw everything back into the box before burying his head in his hands, groaning. The one thing he needed was the one thing he wasn't going to get: talking about this with Derek.


	5. Chapter 5

Spencer spent that night attempting to call Derek and talk to him, but he reached his voicemail every time. Now he understood how frustratingly heart-breaking it was to have several calls go unanswered. After his tenth attempt, he set his phone on his nightstand, before lying back and staring at the ceiling. Every night without Derek was excruciatingly long and lonely, and he couldn't think of a possible way to get him back. He laid awake most of that night, trying to think about a way to reconcile their differences and make Derek happy again, but he was coming up blank. He couldn't understand how he could be a genius and not have a single answer that he needed.

The next day, he couldn't even find it in him to change out of his pajamas. He made his coffee in the morning and laid in bed, still searching for his answer. He'd had a miserable nights' sleep the night before, and was hoping he could doze off to do some much needed relaxing. Sleep finally came to him when his phone started buzzing on his nightstand. Reaching over, he grabbed it, checking the screen. When he didn't see 'Derek', it broke his heart all over again, and the fact that it wasn't Hotch or JJ about a case made it suck even worse, because at least work would give him a distraction. Seeing 'Rossi' on the screen, he simply pushed 'Ignore', before turning the phone off and burying his head in his pillow.

When there was a knock on the door a few hours later, he thought he was imagining it. When the knocking persisted, he got out of bed, rushing to the front door to check the peephole. He was filled with disappointment when he didn't see Derek, but instead saw Rossi standing there, a bottle of some form of alcohol in his hands.

"I know you're in there, Reid," he said, leaning against the doorframe, waiting.

Knowing that letting him in was inevitable, he unlocked the door, holding it open.

"You look like hell."

He looked down at himself and shrugged it off.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not particularly, no."

Rossi gave him a look. "Considering the looks you've been giving Derek all week at work are those of a lost little puppy, something is going on between you two, and I'm not the only one to notice. Now, are you sure you don't want to talk about it?"

He took a deep breath, sighing, before stepping back and holding the door open. Rossi walked in, setting the bottle down on the table. Spencer closed the door, pointing him in the direction of the kitchen before settling on his couch, legs tucked underneath himself.

He walked over with a few glasses, setting them on the table and pouring.

"What is that?" Spencer asked.

"Scotch."

"…I don't drink scotch."

"You'll learn." He picked up one of the glasses, handing it to Spencer. After Spencer took it, he grabbed his own, sitting beside him. "Now, what's wrong?"

"What makes you think something's wrong?" he asked, sniffing the glass.

"It doesn't take a profiler to figure out that something is going on between you two. Nothing you say here is going to leave the two of us, unless you want it to." He took a sip of his own drink, looking at him. "Sometimes, all you really need to do is talk about it. Maybe I could even help."

"Trust me," he started, swirling the drink around in the glass. "_Nothing_ can help me from how badly I've screwed up." He exhaled, before pouring the entire glass into his mouth and swallowing, quickly hissing at the sting.

Rossi raised his eyebrows, pouring him another glass. "Then tell me about it. And take this one slower."

Spencer licked his lips, trying to think of the best possible way to start the story.

"I don't know what I'm supposed to tell you," he admitted, setting the glass down and kneading his hands.

"Whatever works for you. I just know when something's bothering me, leaving it in doesn't do it any good."

Spencer raised his eyebrows. "Oh, that's definitely the case."

"Excuse me?"

He swallowed, chewing on his cheek. "I did something that Derek is never going to forgive me for, and I deserve anything he wants to throw at me as an insult." He motioned toward the box, still sitting on his table. "He already moved any memory of me out of his apartment, and I know finding a way to get away from me is next. He'll probably take the unit chief job in New York or move back to Chicago – both are far enough from me that he'll be able to live happily. Sure the team would suffer, but in the end, it'd be my fault, so I can't blame anyone else for it."

"Okay, back up." He took a sip from his glass, then looked at Spencer. "Start at the beginning. Why would Derek give you back your things?"

"Because I did something so unforgiveable that he obviously never wants to see me again."

"…What could you have possibly done? You're Spencer Reid, you're the most passive and understanding person I've ever met in the FBI."

Spencer swallowed the contents of his glass again before biting down on his lip. He closed his eyes, sighing. "I cheated on Derek last weekend."

"Cheated as in?"

He opened his eyes, tearing up and sniffing. "I slept with somebody else, and the possibility of him ever forgiving me is slim to none."

Rossi opened his mouth to speak, but sighed. "Was it Mason?"

He nodded wordlessly, wiping his eyes.

"…What did he do?"

"That's just it." He sniffed, clearing his throat. "He didn't do anything. He was nice and thankful and caring and I took advantage of that. I took advantage of someone who looked up to me to get revenge on someone I love more than anything. Derek tried calling me multiple times, but I'd turned my phone off so Mason wouldn't get suspicious."

"Did he know you were in a relationship?"

He shook his head. "I never told him. Once I was in the restaurant, I knew what my motive was, and I despise myself for it. I could've walked away before dinner, or not gone back to his apartment, or done absolutely anything else, but in the back of my mind, all I could remember is Derek dancing with strange women. My mind took that as something I needed to get revenge on, and sleeping with Mason seemed to be the best option, and the regret didn't sink in until _after_ it happened."

"Did you tell him?"

"I wanted to. The second I got back from Mason's, I was ready to tell him the truth. I told Mason everything in a letter so he wouldn't wake up to an empty bed and make me feel worse than I already do. But Derek started comforting me when he saw how upset I was, and he apologized for his behavior, and when I tried to confess, nothing came out. I couldn't put together the words to say that I cheated, so we just went to bed and I pretended nothing happened."

"Then how did he find out?"

He sighed, wiping his eyes. "I um, I made him breakfast in the morning to hopefully use that as a tool to tell him, because nobody gets upset on a full stomach. We watched a movie, and after that he kept complimenting me, and it was all words that I didn't deserve for being so disgusting the night before. It finally got to my breaking point and I told him I cheated. He reacted as I expected, kicked me out of his apartment, and as you've seen at work, has pretty much erased me from his life." He chanced a look up at Rossi before looking back at his lap. "He wants nothing to do with me anymore, and it's all my fault."

What happened next, Spencer hadn't been expecting. Rossi had set down his own glass and moved closer to Spencer, wrapping his arms around him and rubbing his back. All Spencer could find it in him to do was start crying, burying his head in the older man's shoulder. In that moment, he felt the pain of everything that happened: considering cheating on Derek, actually sleeping with Mason, leaving him a note, rushing home, lying to Derek repeatedly, and finally telling him the truth, resulting in the most miserable week he'd ever had.

"He won't answer my calls. He won't talk to me at work. It's like I don't even exist anymore. There's no way I can fix this and I've never felt so disgusted with myself."

Rossi sighed, rubbing Spencer's back. "I wish I had this answer for you, kid. Just let it out."

Spencer pulled back from Rossi's arms, wiping his eyes and sighing. "I-I'm so sorry."

"Don't be, I asked." He patted Spencer's back, rubbing it. "Did it help?"

He nodded slightly, sighing. "You won't tell anyone, will you?"

"I don't think 'SSA Doctor Spencer Reid slept with someone else while he was dating SSA Derek Morgan' is water cooler conversation, kid. You're safe."

He smiled appreciatively. "Thank you."

"Anytime." He got off the couch. "If you need to talk this weekend, my phone will be on."

When Spencer's response was a simple nod, he took his keys out of his pocket, walking out of the apartment and closing the door behind him.

* * *

Having Rossi comfort him and talk about everything that happened was a good temporary fix, but after he left, he was alone with his thoughts. He called Derek every single waking hour, hoping that he'd finally get an answer. Unfortunately, he got the answering machine every time. Every single time, he left him a message, and would send a text message right after. At this point, he wouldn't be surprised if Derek had changed his number, considering how much he didn't want to see him. When it was time for him to turn in, he gave Derek one last call, hoping that he'd pick up. Once again greeted with his voicemail, he blinked away tears, sighing.

"Derek, it's me, again. This is now the hundredth time I've called you in the last week and," he bit his lip, "fuck, Derek. I can't do this. I'm not eating, I'm not sleeping, I can't… I can't even read anymore." He wiped his eyes. "I need you more than anything, and I can't even say sorry enough to truly tell you how sorry I am. If we are over, can you please just let me know? I know I don't deserve it, considering what I did, but if those feelings aren't there anymore, can you just tell me? I promise, if you say it's over, I'll be done and I won't bother you. I'll leave the BAU, if that's what you need, just please, Derek. Talk to me." He swallowed, exhaling. "I'll have my phone on at all times, so whenever you get this message, if you want to call me, you can, and I'll answer, I promise." He sighed, clearing his throat. "I'm sorry, and I love you. I'm so sorry. And I'm sorry for the long message and wasting your time."

He had nothing left to say and sighed, hanging up his phone and plugging it in. He was sure to turn the ringer on his phone up all the way before curling up, hoping to get some sleep.

When his phone started ringing first thing in the morning, he reached over, unplugging it and answering.

"Derek?"

JJ laughed softly. "No, sorry, Spence. It's just me. Hotch wanted me to give you a call to let you know we've been called on a case."

He ran a hand over his face, sighing. "Where?"

"Maine, we're doing the debriefing on the jet in an hour. Do you want me to have Derek get you, or-"

"No, I'll pack my bag and take the subway over. See you soon."

She raised an eyebrow. "Okay, see you soon."

He hung up and got out of bed, grabbing his go-bag and packing. Something about being stuck with Derek filled him with two things: hope and fear. Of course, he hoped that spending so much time with him would allow them to reconcile and fix everything that had happened between them, but he also worried that Derek would tell the team what happened and they'd all hate him. He zipped up his bag and exhaled, quickly getting dressed. He shouldered his bags and took one last look at his apartment. Seeing the half-empty bottle of scotch, he popped a few Tylenol in his mouth, grabbing a water bottle from the fridge and walking out, closing the door and locking it.

* * *

Meanwhile, on the jet, Rossi sat across from Hotch, the only two currently at the airstrip.

"Did you find out what's going on with Morgan and Reid?" Hotch asked, not looking up from the case file.

Rossi gave a slight nod. "I did."

"And?"

"And I had to give Reid my word that it wouldn't leave the two of us. I can tell you that he still cares about Morgan, he's not going to let it affect his job, and he's going to do his personal best to keep a straight face and ignore all the problems while working."

Hotch sighed. "Dave-"

He shook his head. "I can't tell you, Aaron. The kid's hurting, and if you look at the two of them, there's still something there. I'm not about to play matchmaker, but I don't know how this team can exist with two of the members tiptoeing around each other."

Hotch leaned back in his seat, arms crossed. "I'll take care of it."


	6. Chapter 6

When Spencer arrived at the jet, he was thankful to see he was one of the first, after Hotch and Rossi. He put his bag into the overhead and gave a nod to the two older profilers, before taking a seat at one of the smaller tables, opening up the case file and reading through it. He watched as the rest of the team arrived: JJ took the seat beside Rossi, Emily took the window seat beside Hotch, and when Derek walked on, he couldn't help but look up. There were only three options available: he'd have to take the seat directly across from him, the ones on the other side of the jet beside him, or sit on the couch, which he never seemed to enjoy unless he wanted to sleep. He watched as Derek put his bag into the overhead, then looked at his seating options. Spencer chewed on his lip, silently praying that Derek would come and talk to him. Instead he grabbed the case file from the table where everyone else was sitting, leaning against the counter and opening it. He wouldn't admit it, but that broke Spencer's heart more than just sitting on the couch and avoiding his gaze.

He cleared his throat, trying to will away how upset he was. "What do we have?"

Hotch put the photos up on the monitors. "We have a serial killer in Bangor, Maine. All three victims were females in their mid to late twenties."

Spencer looked through the photos, chewing on his cheek.

"They're all brunettes too," JJ pointed out, looking up at Hotch, "surrogates?"

"Possibly. When we get there, Dave, I want you and Prentiss to go to the latest dumpsite."

Spencer bit down on his lip. _Oh for the love of God, Hotch, do not send me with Derek._

"JJ, you and I will go to the police station, talk to the lead detective and start working on the profile." He turned around to face Spencer. "Reid, I want you and Morgan to go to the morgue, see if the coroner has found anything else that could be useful."

He nodded slightly, eyeing Derek, who kept his focus on the case file.

* * *

When the plane landed, far too soon for Spencer's liking, the team split up into three SUVs, each pair taking one to their destination. Spencer saw the keys in Derek's hand and threw his bag into the trunk, chancing a look up at him.

"I can walk," he said quickly, hoping Derek would give him some sort of response, positive or negative. "It's only a few miles from the airport," he explained. "I wouldn't mind."

Derek kept his expression the same and he sighed, turning around and starting his trek. He had made it a quarter mile by the time his knee started acting up. Wincing, he leaned against a wall, rubbing his knee and hissing. He wasn't going to call Derek and ask him a favor, especially considering how badly he screwed up. He'd contemplated calling JJ to come get him, but didn't want to deal with explain it. He swallowed, pushing the pain aside and continuing his walk.

With half the trip done, he heard a car pulling up beside him. Ignoring it, he kept walking, trying his best to keep a straight face. The car inched along beside him and he looked out of the corner of his eye, seeing a black SUV. Derek reached over and pulled the handle, pushing the door open for him. He wasn't sure how he was supposed to take this, but he was thankful nonetheless. Climbing in, he threw his bag down on the floor, closing the door and putting on his seatbelt. He looked over at Derek for some sort of reaction, but he just started driving. Spencer avoided reaching down and rubbing his swollen knee, as he didn't want Derek to feel bad not getting him sooner.

Pulling up to the morgue, Derek got out, quickly closing the door behind him. Spencer got out himself, limping after Derek as he walked inside. Neither man spoke a word to the other as they walked in. The coroner greeted them and they walked downstairs to look at the bodies. She pointed out that all three of them had been restrained, given the ligature marks on their wrists and ankles, then stabbed multiple times. Spencer counted fourteen stab wounds on each of them and wondered if this could somehow be ritualistic. He thought back and couldn't recall anything and felt defeated. He collected the reports from the coroner with a thank you and walked back out to the SUV, getting in and reading through them, mumbling to himself as Derek drove.

At the police station, the rest of the team was already situated, trying to go over the victimology and find a link to the three girls, other than the obvious. Garcia was talking to them via webcam, researching anything that they could come up with. Spencer took a seat beside JJ as Derek leaned against the wall, his arms crossed.

"Baby Girl, there were fourteen wounds on each of the victims. Can you tell me if the number fourteen means anything?"

Everyone looked around at each other, wondering why he didn't simply ask Spencer, their human encyclopedia. Spencer seemed unfazed by it and simply let it happen, which also threw them off.

"Well, lovely, from what I can see, it's the atomic number for silicon. In sports, it's a retired jersey number for a _lot_ of teams. In religion, it's the number of 'Stations of the Cross'. It's also the number of days in a fortnight, the number of lines in a sonnet, and the roman numeral is XIV. Other than that, I've got nothing."

They all seemed to think on it and Derek spoke up. "Could each numeral stand for something?"

"It's entirely possible," Hotch said.

Spencer had been mumbling about this on the drive over, but figured Derek hadn't been listening.

"The X could be to symbolize their chromosome?" Emily suggested.

"The I could be the unsub's personal signature? Classic narcissists will want to involve themselves in some way, subconsciously or not."

"What about the V?" Rossi asked.

Spencer chewed on his cheek. "The Braille symbol for 'V' is essentially an L, which is the first letter of each of our victim's names."

They looked at their case files and were unsurprised to find Spencer was right.

* * *

Once they were able to give a profile, Hotch gave everyone their room assignments.

"We were only able to secure three rooms in the hotel – they're overbooked as it is and we're lucky to have these." He set the keys on the table.

Spencer quickly turned to JJ, a hopeful look. She shook her head. "Definitely not. The last time I slept in the same room as you, you rambled off statistics in your sleep. I love you, Spence, but I don't need to know the forty-second digit of pi at 2:00 in the morning." She then turned to Emily. "Room?"

"I'm sold," Emily said, grabbing one of the keys and putting it into her pocket.

Spencer watched as Hotch and Rossi paired off, leaving him and Derek alone in the room with the hotel key on the table in front of them.

Walking into the hotel, Spencer walked right to the elevator, pressing the door open button for Derek to get in. He then realized he didn't get a good look at their room number and needed to ask. He opened his mouth to speak, but instead motioned toward the row of buttons. Derek pressed the button for the fourth floor and Spencer leaned against the wall, thinking to himself. This was a set-up: it had to be. First, he was sent with Derek to the morgue, which they'd never done together, and now they had to room together? Sure, there was the chance that it wasn't, and it was all pure coincidence. The team knew of their relationship, and it could've been that Hotch put them together because he knew they'd be comfortable. He knew he was overthinking it and shook it off, following Derek off the elevator and toward the bedroom.

While Derek put the key into the door, he waited a few steps behind him. Derek walked in and threw his bag down. "You've got to be kidding me."

Spencer raised an eyebrow, walking inside. He looked over at the bed and wondered himself what the deal was: the room only had a king-sized bed, as opposed to two queens. He internally groaned, before reaching for the phone and calling the front desk.

"Hi, um, this is Spencer Reid in room 419. I was wondering if I could have some extra blankets and pillows brought up to the room as soon as possible? Thank you." He hung up and put his bag down on the floor, awkwardly waiting for them to get there. When there was a knock on the door, he grabbed the blankets and pillows, thanking them, before walking to a corner of the room and putting them down, making himself a makeshift bed. He propped up the pillows against the wall and laid the blankets down.

They sat in an awkward silence until Derek decided to grab his clothes, taking a shower. Spencer set down the case file and saw this as an opportunity to get some ice for his knee. He grabbed the bucket and limped down the hall, filling it and limping back. He grabbed a plastic bag, pouring in some ice and tying it off, before lying down and putting it on his knee. Wincing slightly, he picked up the case file, reading through it as he propped his leg up with his go-bag. He saw Derek's phone sitting on the bed and looked back at the bathroom, still hearing the shower going. Biting his lip, he moved the bag off, limping over and unlocking Derek's phone. He checked Derek's texts and saw they'd all been read, and his voicemails had all been heard, a few of them saved. Slightly relieved, he locked the phone again, lying back down and resuming his position before Derek came out.

When it was time to turn in, Spencer threw the case file up onto the desk beside him, before reaching up and turning his reading light off. He saw no movement from the bed, and figured Derek must already be asleep, any hope of them talking that night out the window. Sighing, he plugged his phone in, before kicking his go-bag away from his legs and pulling on his knee brace. He curled up into a ball, pulling the blankets over him and attempting to get some sleep.

* * *

Considering there was only a blanket separating Spencer and the hard floor, the night's sleep hadn't been his best. He woke up extremely sore the next morning, feeling It in every inch of his body. He sat up, stretching slightly. From the looks of it, Derek hadn't even been awake yet. He saw him only taking up the left side of the bed and contemplated taking the right, as he had many nights before – an hour or so in an actual bed sure as hell beat an entire night on the floor. Soon realizing how much of a mistake it would be, he grabbed his go-bag, limping to the bathroom and closing the door, getting ready for the day ahead.

He sat in the lobby, a cup of coffee in one hand and the case file in the other. He'd read it so many times that he'd be able to recite it verbatim, but something told him he had to keep looking. When a hand squeezed his shoulder slightly, he winced, as he'd had that shoulder digging into the floor the entire night.

"Everything okay, kid?" Rossi asked, taking the seat across from him.

He sighed, sipping his coffee. "That depends. Is everything okay when you're forced to share a room with somebody who despises your existence, and the room only has a king sized bed, meaning that you, to avoid any awkward tension, get extra pillows and blankets from room service and sleep in a ball on the floor?"

"I guess not," he said, raising his eyebrows.

"I'm sorry for snapping, I just," he sighed, setting his cup down, "you didn't tell Hotch, did you?"

"No, I didn't, but I told you, you didn't need to be a profiler to see something was going on with you two."

He ran a hand through his hair. "Shoving us together on the job and making us share a room isn't going to fix anything, unfortunately."

"Does he have them?"

"…Excuse me?"

"You shared a room, that means there was a time when he was away from his phone. Anyone would, now, did you check his phone for your messages?"

He bit down on his lip, nodding slightly.

"And?"

"They're all read, saved, and some of the voicemails are saved in his mailbox too."

"I wouldn't give up hope, kid. He hasn't."

"He gave me a box of my things – I'm pretty sure that's an indication it's over."

"Tell that to the guy who reads your messages and listens to whatever it is you said on the voicemails several times, because we can all see he's hurting."

Spencer chewed on his cheek, thinking about it. If Derek had saved the messages, maybe it did mean there was some hope for them.


	7. Chapter 7

He ended up getting a ride to the station from Rossi and getting an early start on the day. Considering how non-social Derek was with him, he really didn't want to ask him to drive him in. He looked at the photos once more, eyebrow raised.

"What is it, kid?" Rossi asked.

He took one of the images out of his case file, holding it out to him. "Yesterday, I thought our Roman numeral theory was a little far-fetched, but then I found this on the latest victim." He pointed to the stab wounds, five in fact, that spelled out 'XIV'. "The question is, how do we know the next target? It's not like we can warn every brunette woman in her mid-to-late twenties."

Rossi raised an eyebrow. "We definitely could. Have a press conference, tell everyone to remain vigilant, maybe even set a curfew. We've done it before, and this unsub only seems to take people in the middle of the night."

"The question is, would that stop him, or would it cause him to change his M.O.?"

"Unfortunately, kid, there's only one way to find out."

* * *

When the rest of the team arrived at the station, they sat around the table, coffees handy, trying to figure out the unsub's thought process. Spencer winced slightly as Hotch was talking, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Okay over there, Spence?" JJ asked, nudging his arm.

He nodded slightly, brushing it off as he saw Derek looking over at them. "It's just a little sore, I'm fine."

After Hotch and Prentiss had left to go talk to the victims' families, and Rossi and Derek were picking up the lunch orders, JJ turned to him. "What's going on?"

"Excuse me?"

"I heard from one of the officers that an agent chose to walk from the airport to the morgue, and was limping. I know Derek doesn't have a bad knee, so do you want to tell me what's really going on here?"

He chewed on his cheek. "JJ, it's nothing."

"It doesn't seem like nothing. You two are treating each other like complete strangers at work, and when you do come into contact with each other, you either blow each other off, or someone, usually Derek, makes a snide remark. What happened, did you two break up or something?"

An officer walked in, knocking on the door. "Sorry to interrupt. Agent Jareau, all the media outlets are here for the press conference."

She sighed, eyeing Spencer. "This isn't over."

"Okay?"

He watched as she walked out and leaned back in his seat, relieved.

Emily and Hotch walked into the room, Emily handing a folder to Spencer.

"What's this?" he asked, flipping through it.

"One, I asked the parents if there were any new relationships or friendships in their daughter's lives, and asked one victim's fiancé. It turns out that anybody they've come into contact with over the last year and a half is a suspect in their eyes, so I need your big old genius brain to read those physical descriptions, and hopefully compile something we can give to Garcia. And two, the second victim kept a diary, and she had tiny handwriting that would take a normal person hours upon hours to read."

He eyed the folder and looked up at her, knowing where she was going with this. "You still owe me for reading the journals in Tallahassee."

"Well, now I'll owe you double."

* * *

Rossi and Derek walked in a few minutes later, setting several bags on the table. Spencer kept his gaze on the journal, reading every single page and taking in its contents.

"Reid, food's here," Emily said, setting his tray in front of him.

He put up a finger, continuing to read through.

JJ came in, pulling off her jacket. "The press conference is done, there's a curfew for the women, and I warned them to remain alert of their surroundings. Did I miss anything?"

Hotch shook his head. "Sounds about right, what time is the curfew?"

"10:00 p.m." She sat down, grabbing her own tray. "Are we going to do anything?"

"Considering all the women were abducted within three blocks of their gyms, we're going to patrol. Dave, you take Prentiss. JJ, you come with me. Morgan, you go with Reid."

Spencer's eyes flickered up to look at Derek's facial expression. He quickly glanced over at Spencer, making brief eye contact, before nodding at Hotch and pushing his food around with his fork.

"I think I have something," Spencer started, flipping back several pages in the diary and skimming the folder for a certain page.

"Yeah," Emily said, swallowing her food, "a soggy tray of chicken caesar salad."

"Aside from that." He set the diary down, pushing it toward Hotch. "She talks about meeting someone at her gym, with baby blue eyes and light brown hair." He then turned his attention back to the folder, grabbing a page and putting it beside the book. "Our third victim's fiancé described the same type of man coming onto her when he was getting them a few drinks at the bar they went to. I know it's not much, but-"

"But it's a physical description that two of our three victims came into contact with, and gives us something to have Garcia research." He reached over, dialing Garcia's number.

"Oh for the love of God, please tell me you have something for me to do, I'm dying here."

Rossi smirked. "You've got it, kitten. I need you to research anybody in this area and the surrounding cities, age range 20's to mid-30's, light brown hair, baby blue eyes, and attractive."

"…So you want me to look at a bunch of beautiful men? I'm sorry, find me work," she joked, typing on her computer. "This could take me a while, but fret not, my doves, I will have this info to you as soon as I get it. Over and out!"

She hung up and Hotch looked over at Spencer. "Good work."

He nodded slightly, opening up his tray and picking up his fork, eating. "What time are we going to be patrolling tonight?"

"All the victims were abducted between the hours of 10:00 p.m. and midnight, so that timeframe. Then we'll go back to the hotel for a few hours to get some sleep and come back here at 8:00 a.m."

He sighed to himself, thinking of the hard, wooden floor of the hotel room he shared with Derek. He'd much rather spend several hours awake trying to get the unsub than deal with that discomfort and the awkward tension between them.

* * *

Spencer sat in the passenger seat of the SUV, watching out the window carefully. He and Derek still hadn't spoken a word to each other in well over a week. Derek didn't bring up his voicemails or text messages, but neither did he, because he knew Derek would know he went through his things. He had to admit, being stuck with Derek right now was the absolute last thing on a list of things he'd like to do, right after getting shot again. He chewed on his cheek, resting his chin in his hand and keeping his gaze outside. He wondered if the two of them could spend this entire stake out quiet, or if one of them, most likely him, would crack under the pressure.

He glanced over at the clock and saw that it was only 10:30 – the next hour and a half of his life was going to be agonizingly slow. He leaned back in his seat, sighing, looking at the streets that were practically empty. His mind was constantly nagging him to say something to Derek, anything at all that came to him. After opening his mouth to speak a few times, he came up with nothing. Defeated, he kept his gaze out the window until his phone started ringing. Reaching in his pocket, he took it out, answering, not checking the caller ID.

"Hello?"

"…Spencer? I'm sorry, Doctor Reid?"

_Oh damnit_. With his luck, the one person who could make this whole situation worse was on the other line. He chanced a look at Derek before biting his lip, looking around for a place to go. He saw a small opening in the park and put up his finger, closing the door and getting out, walking toward it. Running a hand through his hair, he sighed. "Hi, Mason," he said, pacing back and forth, trying to keep his voice down.

"Is something wrong?"

"No, nothing. Well, except the obvious way that I used you like a horrible, disgusting person would. I'm just… I'm on a case right now, and it's really not the best time to be talking. You really deserve an explanation and a story, and I promise, I'll give you a lengthy explanation as soon as I can."

"You really don't have to-"

He winced. Mason was more of a perfect person than he thought. "Yes, I do. I did something extremely stupid and it's not forgivable." Wiping his eyes, he chewed on his cheek. "Despite everything that happened, I'd still like to be friends, even though that's the last thing I deserve, considering."

Mason gave a deep sigh. "Is everything okay with Derek?"

Glancing over at the SUV, he shook his head. "Not by a longshot, and not for lack of effort on my part. It took you over a week to forgive me enough to give me a phone call, and I only knew you a few days. I've known him for eight years and he doesn't do so much as look in my general direction to notice me." He blinked back tears. "And I shouldn't be dumping this on you, I'm sorry. You deserve the sympathy, not me." When he was greeted with silence, he changed the subject. "Before I go, um, how did your dissertation go?"

"I'm emailing my professor every few hours asking about my grade, so I'm hoping his lack of response means he's grading. I'll let you go since you're working. Maybe we'll have some coffee when you get back?" Spencer stayed quiet and Mason laughed softly. "_Just_ coffee this time."

"Yeah, we'll see." Swallowing, he cleared his throat. "I'll be in touch, I have to get back to work."

"Good luck."

"Yeah, thanks." He hung up, collecting himself. The one thing he didn't deserve from either of them was forgiveness, and Mason was more than willing to talk to him again. He only wished it had been this easy with Derek. He walked back to the SUV, getting in and closing the door, mumbling a sorry and keeping his gaze outside.

"Everything okay?"

He froze up, eyes widening. If it hadn't been just the two of them in the car, he'd swear those words came from somebody else. Derek's hands were gripping the steering wheel and staring straight ahead, but those were the first words he'd spoken to him in over a week. For the first time in a long time, Spencer had no immediate answer.


	8. Chapter 8

"Everything's fine. Thanks," he said quickly, trying not to seem hung up on it.

"Was it something about your mom?"

He shook his head. "She's alive and well in Vegas. In her last letter, she told me that she was preparing for another lecture on Tristan and Isolde, one of her favorite works."

"Was it your doctor about your headaches coming back?"

He raised an eyebrow, wondering why Derek felt the sudden urge to talk to him, though he wasn't going to complain about it. He also wondered how Derek knew his headaches had come back, considering he hadn't talked to him in a week. "When I talked to him a week and a half ago, he gave me a few natural remedies that seem to be working for the time being." Reaching back, he rubbed his neck, looking back out the window.

"So who was it?"

He screwed his eyes shut, groaning to himself. This was not the turn he wanted this conversation to take: he wanted one for the better, and it definitely was one for the worst. Licking his lips, he thought about the best way to word it. "I only left him a letter, because he'd fallen asleep by the time I realized what I'd done," he started softly, looking down at his hands. "And he finally stopped being so pissed off at me that he called so I could give him an actual, formal apology for using him. He's going to let me take him out for a coffee and explain why I did what I did, because not only did I hurt the only person I've ever truly loved, but I hurt someone who was completely innocent in the process. I can't even put into words how sorry I really am for this happening, Derek. I can't. I've tried so hard over 100 times on your voicemail and with over 150 text messages, but the words don't exist to explain how horrible I felt and knowing how much I hurt you is the most difficult thing I've ever dealt with. I just… I blew it, I know I did. I hope that one day, you can find it in yourself to forgive me. I don't care if that day's today, tomorrow, or ten years from now, but I hope it comes." He exhaled, exhausted at how much he'd just put out on the table.

"Did you mean it?"

He paused. "Did I mean what?"

"When you said you'd leave the FBI if it meant it'd make me happy?"

Pain went right through his heart, but he nodded. "I did. I've had offers from the CIA and other government entities before. I've been on the team so long because it was like a family, but if one member of the family isn't happy with me, I'm not going to stick around and make it awkward for everyone else when I'm the last thing that one person wants to deal with."

He tried to figure out Derek's reaction, but there wasn't one. He kept his position in his seat, gripping the steering wheel and staring straight ahead, watching the streets. Part of him knew it was because he was a profiler and didn't want Spencer to know what he was thinking, but the other part thought he was considering telling him to leave the team.

"Does anyone know?"

"JJ suspects something, but I didn't tell her. I don't exactly advertise our relationship, or perhaps our past relationship, so I don't know how she found out."

"Did Rossi show up at your apartment with a bottle of scotch too?"

_Too_? "I told him I wasn't a fan of scotch, and he told me I'd learn. The stuff is practically liquid truth and I'm sorry, I told him everything, but I didn't make you the bad guy, because you're not. I am. I did this to us and I took the heat for all of it."

"Did the same to me."

He smiled to himself, wondering if things were going back to normal with the two of them, considering the fact they were currently having a conversation without snide remarks or completely ignoring each other.

* * *

The bliss was short lived when Derek's phone started ringing. He shifted in his seat, taking the phone out of his pocket and checking the caller ID and answering.

"Yeah, Baby Girl?"

"I've found our baddy. At least, I'm pretty sure and almost positive I've found him."

He put the phone on speaker. "Tell me about him."

"27 year old Jason Thomas. He had a fiancée who took off on him with another guy two weeks before the wedding. The guy put everything into the relationship, even moving across the country to be with her, and she left with another guy. All three of our victims unsurprisingly look just like her. I'm sending everyone his picture right now."

Spencer looked at his phone when it went off and saw the picture.

"Thanks, mama. Anything else we should know about the guy?"

"Well, you know about his affinity for stabbing people, but the 14? They were set to be married the 14th of this month. Since today's the 13th, I'm not feeling too warm and fuzzy about my pretties being there trying to find him. Everyone stay safe, please."

"We will," Spencer spoke up, before studying the picture and putting his phone back into his pocket.

Derek hung up, setting his phone down on the dashboard. It was now only 10:45 and they only had another hour and fifteen minutes to hopefully catch this guy before something bad happened to another woman.

* * *

An hour had passed and they hadn't seen the unsub, nor had they received a call that someone else on the team did. When the time for the stakeout was almost up, Spencer's phone started ringing. Checking the caller ID, he put the phone on speaker and answered it.

"Hotch, you have Morgan and I. Did you find anything?"

"We don't have anything here, and I haven't gotten a call telling me anyone else has. I have Garcia looking up his address and workplace. If we don't have anything in the next half hour, I'll have you and Morgan go to his residence, see if you can find anything."

He eyed Derek, who nodded slightly. "No problem, Hotch. Is the ex-fiancée-"

"She's in protective custody right now, so he can't get to her."

Spencer chewed on his cheek, thinking. "So he's targeting her over and over again without directly attacking her. What if he won't stop until he's able to get to her?"

"He's going to be sorely disappointed, because she's not being released until he's in custody," Derek said, watching out the window.

"I'll send you two the address once Garcia has it."

"No problem."

He hung up, putting his phone in his pocket and eyeing Derek. "Thank you."

Derek raised an eyebrow. "For?"

"Not turning into a serial killer?" he said with a slight laugh, avoiding eye contact.

When Derek didn't speak immediately, he regretted his decision to make a joke. Then Derek smiled, shaking his head. "You would've caught me too easily."

Spencer smirked, glad that he and Derek were talking again, even if they weren't back to where they were before.

* * *

Derek's phone went off a half hour later and he saw the address. Putting it into the GPS, he started the car. "We didn't want to sleep tonight anyway, right?"

He shrugged, buckling himself in as Derek pulled away, driving.

"When we get there," Derek started, taking a turn, "I'll take the lead, you stay behind me. Am I clear?"

"Crystal clear." He felt somewhat overwhelmed with Derek still seeming overprotective of him.

Parking in front of the house, Derek undid his seatbelt, reaching in the back and grabbing the vests, handing one to Spencer. He put on his own and got out of the car, Spencer following. They walked up the front steps of the house, Derek pounding on the door.

"Jason Thomas, FBI," he called out, waiting for a response. They heard shuffling inside and Derek stepped back, kicking down the door and running in.

The unsub grabbed a kitchen knife, before taking off through the back. They went after him, Spencer calling Hotch.

"Hotch, we have him and he's armed with a knife on the run, out the back of his house." He hung up, running after Derek and stuffing his phone into his pocket. The back door was open and he stepped out to see Derek had the unsub held against the wall. He saw him raise the knife and his eyes widened, running over and pushing Derek out of the way. He held an arm against his throat and looked him in the eyes, holding the arm with the knife as tight as he could.

"You think you can take away your pain by hurting someone else? You think it's that _easy_? By hurting people who look like her, you're only causing more pain in other people." Biting his lip, he continued, attempting to hold down his arm. "We can help you. Just drop the knife and we can talk about it."

"Reid," Derek snapped, trying to get him to stop talking and arrest him. The use of his last name took him by surprise long enough for him to loosen his grip on the unsub's arm. Immediately after turning his face to look at Derek, the unsub took the opportunity to dig the knife into his side.

Spencer winced, his eyes widening, keeping his eyes on Derek. Derek ran over, throwing the knife out of his hands and slamming the unsub into the wall, cuffing him.

Meanwhile, Spencer whimpered, reaching up to his two-way radio. "Hotch, we need an ambulance to his residence immediately."

"Did you have to shoot?"

He took a deep breath, wincing. "No, he stabbed someone else."

Hotch looked at JJ, who called the ambulance. "Reid, who?"

Derek sighed, reaching up and pressing the button. "He got Reid, and he's bleeding pretty badly, Hotch. _Hurry_."

"Try to keep him stabilized, we'll be right there."

* * *

Once the team arrived on the scene, Derek pushed the unsub toward Hotch, kneeling beside Spencer and pressing a hand against his side.

"Spencer, are you still with me?"

He whimpered softly, looking up at him through half-lidded eyes.

"There we go, stay with me." He rolled Spencer onto his uninjured side, hoping it would help stop the bleeding.

"I'm sorry, Derek," he whispered, wincing. "For everything, I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about it." He turned to Hotch. "Where are the medics?"

"Two minutes out."

"There we go, Spencer. Just two minutes. Can you hold on for two minutes?" he looked down at him, pressing his hand down. "Come on, it's just two minutes."

He sighed, biting down on his lip, hoping it would help with the pain. "I'm really sorry, Derek."

"Kid, you took a stabbing for me. Shut up about being sorry right now."

When the ambulance came, the team all stepped aside, letting the EMTs get through to him. One of them rested his hand on Derek's arm. "Sir, we can take over from here."

He exhaled, looking at Spencer. "Spencer, the EMTs are here, you're going to be fine." He paused, waiting for a reaction, and his face fell when he didn't get one. "Spencer? Spencer, come on."

"Derek," Rossi said, helping him up. "Let them do their job."

He sighed, stepping back and watching. He saw Hotch talking to one of the EMTs, most likely letting them know they'd meet him at the hospital, and walked over to Derek, patting his arm.

"You can catch me up at the hospital."

He motioned toward Spencer. "You want me to leave him?"

Hotch turned to one of the EMTs. "Can he ride along?"

"We have to go now," he explained, helping the other get Spencer onto the stretcher.

Derek nodded, following them to the ambulance and sitting down, grabbing Spencer's hand and holding it.

* * *

Rossi sighed, looking at Hotch. "When you said you'd take care of it-"

"I know." He took the keys to the SUV out of his pocket. "I put them together on the case, hoping I'd get them talking and stop acting so distant, which they did. I'd say they even started getting along again." He cleared his throat, turning around and walking to the SUV.

"And you think this is your fault?"

"Dave, I sent them to his house unprotected with no back-up."

"We thought he was out targeting his next victim and that he wouldn't be home. You sent them just to scope it out, not to find him. Nobody knew what would've happened."

He sighed, getting in and starting the car. "Did Derek tell you?"

He shook his head. "He was too busy trying to stop the bleeding. I'm sure we'll get the story once we get to the hospital. They're not going to let him back with the kid, considering he'll need to go up to surgery and get fixed up."

Hotch exhaled, raising his eyebrows. "We're in for a long night."

* * *

At the hospital, they arrived to find Derek sitting in the waiting room, his head buried in his hands. JJ was the first to walk over, sitting beside him and rubbing circles on his back. He bit his lip, running a hand over his face.

Hotch sat across from him. "Morgan, I know it's a hard time for you, but I need to know what happened."

He thought to himself. "He took the hit for me, and it's my fault."

"How so?"

"We went into the house, I went first. We saw him pick up the knife out of the butcher block and take off into the backyard, so we had to get him before he had another victim. I went in the backyard to get him while Spencer called you. I had him against the wall and was holding him there, trying to get my cuffs out. Spencer saw what I didn't see and the unsub raised his knife at me. To tell you the truth, I'd forgotten it was even there in the moment. He ran over and shoved me out of the way, pressing him against the wall and trying to restrain him." He swallowed, clearing his throat. "He tried to talk him down, but my instinct was to protect him, so I said his name, hoping he'd get the hint and cuff him. I ended up distracting him just long enough for him to drop the unsub's arm and get stabbed in the side. I got the guy after that, but the damage was done. I tried to stop the bleeding and he called for you guys, which I have to admit, even when I'm in a panic, I wouldn't think to do."

"Reid's smart and always keeps calm when something happens to him on the job. He got shot in the leg and continued to talk down a dangerous unsub, lest we forgot?"

"How could we?" Rossi asked. "We had to hear Morgan complaining about it for the next week."

Derek looked up at him.

"What?" Emily started. "It's not like you didn't know he was this accident prone when you pursued him."

He shrugged slightly as Hotch changed the subject, not wanting to have Derek more upset than he already was. "Did the EMTs say anything, or the emergency room staff?"

He shook his head. "They kept him stabilized for most of the ride, but apparently the knife got in there pretty deep. As soon as we got here, they took him up to surgery and put him under. I was able to tell them not to give him narcotics beforehand, so at least we don't have to worry about that." He screwed his eyes shut, sighing. "I should've seen the knife. I should've remembered it was there and done something before he got hurt."

"It's not going to do you any good to blame yourself," JJ said softly, rubbing his back.

He chewed on his cheek. "I _forgot_, JJ. I _forgot_ he had a weapon, when I saw him with it two minutes earlier."

"You're human, it happens."

"Yeah, and because I'm human, he's upstairs getting his side stitched up on a table."

"Derek are you still-" Rossi started.

He shook his head slightly, leaving the rest of the team to guess their thought process and go through the agonizing wait for word from his doctor.


	9. Chapter 9

The team sat around the waiting room in silence for a few hours, waiting for someone to tell them how Spencer was doing. Derek ran a hand over the back of his neck, thinking to himself. The last week and a half had been some of the most painful times in his adult life, and he wasn't sure he'd ever forgive Spencer. Now, all he cared about was hearing that he was alive and seeing him smile again. Spencer had taken that stabbing for him, and it was his fault he'd gotten hurt, no matter how the team wanted to put it.

"Can I get you anything?" Rossi asked, sitting beside him. He looked around the waiting room and saw everyone else on the team had fallen asleep, and it was only the two of them.

He swallowed, shaking his head. "I'm fine." He wrung his hands, looking at the floor.

"Come on, let's go for a walk."

"I don't-" he started.

"If there's any word, Hotch is going to let you know right away. Do you really think he wouldn't?"

He pushed himself out of the chair, making sure his phone was turned up all the way, before he followed Rossi outside.

"It's okay to still be mad at him," Rossi started, putting his hands in his pockets.

He took a deep breath, nodding slightly. "I know."

"Just because he got hurt for you, it doesn't erase what he did."

He nodded again, wordlessly this time.

"With that said, did something happen with you two on this case?" When Derek looked up at him, he put his hands up. "Off the record, it doesn't go anywhere but between the two of us."

"I ignored him when we got here," he admitted. "It was easier that way. I wasn't ready to confront him, but when I had a minute to myself, I found myself listening to the voicemails and reading the text messages." He raised his eyebrows. "He even offered to leave the FBI, if that's what I needed for closure."

"Would you have made him do it?"

He shook his head. "I couldn't have done that to the team, even if he was ready to up and leave if I said the word. We'd be lost without him, and let's be honest, no other genius would fit in with this team as well as he does, and we'd hate whatever pain in the ass they brought in to replace him."

Rossi chuckled. "Isn't that the truth?"

"After we landed, we went to the coroner, and he offered to walk, and considering we weren't talking, I let him. He made it about a mile before I pulled over and saw him in pain because of his knee. I drove him, and we were quiet until we got to the station."

"Trust me, you two weren't too chatty there, either. I'm willing to bet he was talking about the symbolism on the drive?"

"Moreso, he was mumbling about it."

"Of course he was."

He ran a hand over his scalp. "We got to our room and there was only a single bed, which I can't really blame Hotch for, considering he didn't know something was going on. Before either of us could say anything, he called room service for some blankets and pillows and made a makeshift bed on the floor under the desk."

"And you let him, even with his knee?"

He shrugged. "I didn't argue with it. I got out of the shower and he had an ice pack on his knee and had buried himself in the case, meaning he was all but dead to the world."

"Did anything happen tonight? Before, you know, the events?"

He exhaled, nodding. "He got a phone call during the stakeout, and he had to get out of the car and talk to answer it. I assumed it was something with his mother so I let it slide. He got back into the car, and I asked him if everything was okay."

"Is his mother okay?"

"She's fine, and alive and well in Vegas, and it wasn't his doctor either, because he had a visit a few weeks ago."

"Then who?"

He groaned. "Mason."

"Mason as in _the_ Mason?"

He gave Rossi a look. "Like Mason is that common of a name?"

"Wow. What happened?"

"He told me how he left him with just a letter and felt like a jackass, and wanted to give him a proper apology, told me that he was going to take him out for coffee when we get back to give him a real explanation, considering we're on a case and he couldn't talk that long."

"And you were going to let him?"

"He's a grown man, I can't control what he does. If I told him no, he would've respected it, but he'd still feel incredibly guilty." He reached up, running a hand over his head. "And he apologized. Everything from the voicemails and then some."

"Was it sincere?"

"Yeah. He all but broke down in front of me, and said that he hoped that I had it in me to forgive him someday."

* * *

The two remained silent and Derek looked down at his feet, kicking the dirt. "You didn't tell me you went to visit him too."

"I didn't find it prudent. And besides, you two got some _pretty_ good scotch, so I don't know why you're complaining."

He laughed slightly. "Well, we appreciated it. He told me he didn't make me the bad guy and took all the fault. Was he telling the truth?"

"He was. The kid told me everything was on him and that you weren't to blame at all. Anything else?"

"We talked for a while until Hotch called and told us to go to the house. While we were driving, I told him to stay behind me while I took the lead."

"You were still protective over him," Rossi observed.

He nodded. "Always have been, and probably always will be. Then everything happened and… I can't find it in me to be mad at him, because I'm just worried about him and want him to pull through."

"Knowing Reid? He will. Now come on, he'll be up soon, and I think he deserves better than a cup of crappy hospital coffee."

He smirked, nodding, following Rossi down the street.

While they were in the coffee shop, waiting for Spencer's order, Derek leaned against the window.

"Doing okay, otherwise?"

"As great as I can be," he admitted. "Do you think Hotch will let me see him?"

"I know Hotch knows better than to piss you off and keep you from him, so you'll probably be let in first, for everyone's health."

He laughed slightly. "I guess you're right."

After getting the coffee, Derek's phone started ringing. He handed the cup to Rossi, before taking out his phone and answering. "Yeah, Hotch?"

"You might want to get back here. His doctor just came in and said he's going to wake soon. I think he couldn't definitely use you there once he does wake up."

"We'll be right there." He hung up, and without a word, Rossi knew what the conversation was, turning and walking back to the hospital.

* * *

When they walked into the hospital, Derek went up to Hotch. "Where is he?"

"He's out of recovery and in his own room right now, coming off the anesthesia. He's down the hall in room 14."

He nodded, thanking him, before walking down the hall and into Spencer's room. He took the chair beside his bed and pulled it closer, sitting down and reaching out, lacing his fingers with Spencer's. Lifting the blanket, he took a quick look at the stitches, and visibly winced: there were twelve in his side to close up the wound, and he could only imagine the internal damage. He eyed the charts at the foot of the bed, before shaking it off – he knew Spencer wanted to be the first to see them, aside from his doctor and nurses. He tuned out the sound of the monitors he was hooked up to and watched his chest rise and fall. Exhaling, he squeezed Spencer's hand, assuring him he wasn't alone.

Spencer whimpered, wincing slightly and screwing his eyes shut. He was extremely tired and felt his body was numb. After blinking a few times, the room came into focus and he took a deep breath, sighing. He could make out someone sitting next to his bed and wondered which member of his team would be there for him.

"Feeling okay?"

He recognized the voice as Derek's and it took him a minute to remember how he got there. He recalled the unsub and panicked. "Are you okay?"

Derek laughed softly, smirking. "I'm fine, he didn't get me. Do you know what happened?"

He cleared his throat, sighing. "I got stabbed?"

"Do you remember anything _else_?"

He licked his lips. "I couldn't let you get hurt, Derek," he said softly. "I'd already hurt you enough and I couldn't let something happen." He tried to sit up, wincing. "And I wanted you to be safe, so I pushed him away. I'm sorry."

Derek squeezed his hand again and Spencer looked down, letting go of his hand.

"What are you doing?" Derek asked.

Spencer sighed, resting a hand on his side. "I don't deserve this."

"What-"

He shook his head, wincing. "After what I did, you shouldn't be here. You should be furious with me. You should hate me. You should want to be as far away from me as you can get. You-"

Derek sighed, putting a finger to his lips.

"Derek," he mumbled.

He cupped his hand over his mouth. "No."

"But Derek-"

"No."

Spencer groaned, pushing his hand off his mouth, pointing to the chart at the foot of his bed. Derek knew what this meant and grabbed it, handing it to him and sitting his bed up. Spencer looked through the chart, reading it.

"…What's the damage, doc?"

He smiled slightly. "The vests do a great job of covering our chest and back, but do nothing for the sides, apparently, aside from the Velcro straps to fasten it."

"I meant from the knife, genius."

"No major organs or arteries were hit, though they needed to do some internal stitches. Apparently, I'm lucky, because a few inches higher and he'd have hit a kidney. Twelve stitches to close the wound, and those are going to be unpleasant to deal with until they come out."

"At least you can cover them?" he suggested. "Some gauze and medical tape can work wonders."

Spencer paused. "…Do I smell coffee?"

Derek smirked. "You're like a bloodhound." He reached over, grabbing the cup from the nightstand and handing it to him. "Our little secret."

After taking a few sips, he handed the chart back to Derek and gripped the cup as the chart was put back.

"Derek?" he asked cautiously, biting his lip.

"Yeah, Pretty Boy?"

He smiled slightly at the nickname. "What are you doing here?"

"What are you talking about? I'm checking on you. Anyone who takes a knife for me deserves at least that."

He swallowed. "So you're going to take off again, and things will be like they have been?"

Derek sighed. "How miserable have you been this past week?"

"Completely," he admitted. "Like I told you, I didn't sleep, I didn't eat, I couldn't even get myself out of bed on my days off, sans the day that Rossi turned up. Add in the fact that we were tiptoeing around each other and speaking at each other, instead of to each other, when necessary? I just… I'm sorry. I know I've said it 137 times, but I am."

"You counted?"

"Mhm."

"This week wasn't easy on me either, Spencer. I thought everything was fine with us, and then you dropped that bomb on me that you'd cheated. Put yourself in my shoes, would you react the same as I did?"

He opened his mouth to argue, but nodded. "Exactly the same, actually. I don't know how you didn't punch me in the face for being such a jackass."

Derek smirked. "Because Baby Girl would've had my ass for hurting you, no matter what the situation."

Spencer couldn't tell if he was joking, but considering the smile, he took it as such. "How'd you do it?"

"Do what?"

"Ignore me."

Derek sighed. "It was really hard, at first. I couldn't really do it. Every time you called, I had to restrain myself from answering and talking to you. I wasn't ready to do it, because I was going to say something I really didn't mean. Then when I saw you at work, it was especially hard, because there was really no way to get away from you. It was safest for both of us to just stay quiet and away from each other, because you would've broken down, and I would've just stayed angry. Do you understand?"

Spencer nodded slightly, before letting Derek continue.

"In the back of my mind? I'm always going to remember this, and I think with good reason, I can always be upset about it. Our relationship was built on trust, and you threw that away for revenge." He sighed, clearing his throat. "I don't think you can ever fully comprehend how much that hurt, because no matter what I did with people at clubs, it always stayed there. I never took it anywhere else."

Spencer looked down at his lap, twirling the blanket in his finger. "Please tell me there's a 'but'," he said softly.

Derek saw the pain in his eyes and sighed. "But somebody who's willing to put their life on the line for me deserves some time to explain himself, and maybe even a second chance. Some people say 'once a cheater, always a cheater', but I don't think you'd have it in you to do it again."

Spencer quickly shook his head. "I don't."

"But you know how hard it is for me to trust people." Spencer nodded and Derek wrung his hands. "And that trust has to be earned. It's very safe to say you lost it, and you need to gain it back."

Spencer licked his lips, looking up at him. "I'd like to try, if you'd let me. I promise, I won't mess up again. Please, Derek."

He leaned over, wrapping an arm around Spencer, resting a hand on the back of his neck. "Promise?"

He nodded. "Promise," he confirmed.

Derek leaned in, kissing him softly. Spencer smiled appreciatively, returning the kiss. It was nothing overly passionate, but it was sweet, and exactly what he needed to confirm that he hadn't lost Derek forever.

He pulled back, resting his forehead against Derek's. "So you don't want me to transfer?"

"Not unless you're taking me with you."

Spencer bit down on his lip. "Derek?"

"Yeah?"

"I know you don't owe me anything, but, could you get me an ice pack for my side?"

"Sure, anything else?" he asked, getting up.

He shook his head. "You can tell the team I'm conscious?" he suggested. "I'm sure they'd appreciate the update."

"Probably." He patted Spencer's knee. "I'll be back in a minute."

He stuck the pillow behind his back. "I'll eagerly be awaiting your return."

* * *

Derek smirked, walking out to the nurses' station and requesting an ice pack. Meanwhile, he leaned against the desk, calling Hotch.

"Is he complaining?"

He laughed. "Not as much as I would be. I'm only out of there because he requested an ice pack for his stitches."

"How many?"

"Twelve in his side, but no significant damage. He read his charts to be sure of it."

Hotch shook his head. "Of course he did. Is he up for visitors?"

"I'm assuming so." He took the ice pack from the nurse and walked back to his room. "Has anyone informed Garcia yet?"

"JJ did, and apparently he's going to be getting a talking to once he gets back to work."

"I'm not surprised." He sat back down on his chair, pushing up Spencer's gown and resting the ice pack against his stitches. "Are you up for visitors?"

He winced at the cold, but nodded.

"You guys can stop by and give him a reaming."

"We'll be right there."

Derek hung up, putting the phone into his pocket and looking at Spencer. "Anything in that chart about when you can go home?"

"Tomorrow. Visiting hours are probably over soon-"

"And all we need to do is flash our badges to get right back in here. We're not leaving you alone."

Spencer was going to argue but sighed, leaning back.

* * *

There was a knock on the door and he looked at Derek, motioning toward it.

"Say no more." He walked over, opening the door, allowing the team to come in.

Spencer sat up, resting a hand on his side. JJ stepped toward the bed. "Come on, let me see the damage."

"What? No, JJ, it's disgusting."

"Spence, I'm an agent and I'm a mom. I've seen all sorts of disgusting. Let me see it."

He took his hand off the ice pack, moving it away and showing her his side.

She traced a finger over the stitches, wincing. "How are you feeling?"

"Other than the giant hole in my side? Fantastic."

She smiled, putting the ice pack on and adjusting his gown.

"How long are you stuck here?" Emily asked.

"Overnight, so they can keep an eye on me. Lost a lot of blood, infection concerns… same old same."

Rossi smirked, chuckling. "Anything I can get you, kid?"

"My go-bag from the hotel room, if you could grab it for me. And maybe Derek's?" he added, looking over at him.

Derek nodded, taking the room key out of his pocket and holding it out to Rossi.

Rossi smiled to himself, patting Spencer's leg. "Try to get some sleep tonight, kid."

He gave him a smile and nodded, watching as he walked out.

"Now that we know you're fine?" JJ said, looking at him.

"Hm?"

She reached up, hitting him upside the head.

"Ow!" he snapped, putting a hand where she'd hit him. "What was that for?!"

"One, for thinking Morgan couldn't handle the unsub on his own, and two, for getting yourself hurt on the job _again_. I don't know how many times I need to tell you, Spence, but I'm sick of having to buy hair dye because you insist on giving me gray hairs."

"Well one," he started, rubbing the side of his head, "Derek forgot the unsub had a knife and I probably saved his life, so you're welcome. And two, gray hairs have to do with your genetics, and it's not my fault, though if you'd like to blame me, feel free."

"I will." She ruffled his hair, sitting down next to him.

"I see Morgan provided you with your lifeline," Emily said, pointing to the coffee on the nightstand.

"That he did."

"So does this mean you two will stop acting like total jackasses to each other?"

"What?"

"I'm with Em on this one," JJ added. "I'm really sick of this soap opera."

"Make that three," Hotch said, raising his hand.

Spencer eyed Derek, who smirked, shaking his head.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Spencer defended.

"Let's see, there was Derek's very spiteful 'why don't you ask _him?_'."

"Add in Reid's disgusted 'that's not _my_ problem'."

Hotch smiled. "And the awkward tension between the two of you the past week and a half."

"…Sometimes I hate working with profilers," he started, shifting slightly. "But yes, we're going to stop 'acting like total jackasses', as you so affectionately put it."

"Thank _God_. I don't know how much longer I'd have been able to take it without locking you two in a supply room together until you worked whatever this is out."

"You lock me in a supply room alone with him, JJ, and we'll come up with our own way to resolve it."

Hotch laughed while Emily and JJ both made a face. Spencer raised an eyebrow, looking between them. "What?"

"_Nothing_, Spence," JJ said, shaking her head and glaring at Derek.

When visiting hours were over, Rossi dropped off their go-bags and eyed Spencer.

"Everything okay?"

He looked in the hallway, where Derek had just left to get him some water. "I hope so."


	10. Chapter 10

The next morning, Spencer was able to leave the hospital. Derek helped him get dressed and grabbed their bags, putting them over his shoulder. His doctor had put a bandage and tape over his stitches, so he'd be able to get dressed and not have his stitches catch on anything. Derek left the room and came back a minute later, wheelchair in tow.

"What's that?" Spencer asked, sitting up.

"This crazy invention called a wheelchair. Essentially, it's a chair with wheels."

Spencer mock laughed. "For?"

"For you to sit yourself in so I can get you out of here."

He groaned. "Derek, I'm fine, I can walk."

"I don't care, it's hospital policy. Now sit."

He rested a hand on his side, walking over and sitting down. "Fine."

Derek adjusted the bags on his shoulder, before pushing him outside toward the SUV.

"Can you get out on your own?"

He nodded slightly, pushing himself up and wincing, opening the passenger side door and getting in. "I can't promise I can buckle myself in though."

Derek put the bags in the backseat and got in, buckling Spencer in before buckling himself.

* * *

Once they made it to the airstrip, Derek took their bags and walked directly behind Spencer, ready to catch him if he fell. Spencer took slow steps up the stairs and onto the jet, sitting down on the couch. JJ reached over, handing him an ice pack, which he gratefully accepted, holding it against his side. After Derek put his things into the overhead, he took the blanket out, tossing it to Spencer, who took it and laid down, easily falling asleep.

"Looks like he could really use the powernap," Emily said, motioning toward him.

Derek looked over and saw Spencer was already out. "I guess the hotel room floor and the hospital bed weren't that comfortable."

"The hotel room _floor_?" JJ asked, eyebrow raised.

He nodded slightly. "That's where he slept night before last. Called room service for some pillows and blankets, made himself a little bed, and stayed there."

"Even after he walked to the coroner's office, which, by the way, I should hit you for?"

Derek raised his eyebrows, exhaling. "It was his choice, not mine."

"Why would you let him walk a mile with a bad knee, and then proceed to make him sleep on the floor? What kind of sick sadist are you?"

"Sadist? That's a little harsh. He said he'd walk, I let him. He wanted to sleep on the floor, I let him."

"Wanted?" Emily asked. "Or was required to?"

"None of your business," he said. "Now, are we done?"

"For now."

* * *

When they arrived back home, Hotch told everyone to go straight home and get some rest, saying they'd get the paperwork done in the morning. Derek was happy to comply, helping Spencer up and walking him off the jet and toward the car. He pulled up to his apartment building and nudged the sleeping Spencer in the passenger seat.

"Come on, Pretty Boy."

"Can you stay the night?" Spencer mumbled, leaning his head against the window.

Derek laughed slightly. "In my own apartment?"

Spencer raised an eyebrow, waking up slightly and looking out the window. "You're going to make me walk from your apartment? Derek, that's over three miles."

He shook his head. "No, now come on." He got out, putting their bags over his shoulder and walking around, opening Spencer's door.

Spencer looked at him curiously, before unbuckling himself and getting out, walking inside.

Clooney instantly ran up to Spencer, sniffing him and spinning around at his feet.

"Do you want to take a shower before bed?"

"Bed?" he raised an eyebrow, looking at the time on the cable box. "It's 3:30 in the afternoon."

"Yeah, and yesterday you got a knife in your side, so the world would understand if you were tired."

He thought about it and nodded. First, he remembered something and looked into the bedroom. "Derek?"

"Yeah?"

"Why did you give me back my things?"

Derek set down his go-bag, which he was in the process of unpacking, and sighed.

"If you don't want to tell me, it's okay. You don't need to justify yourself to me."

"Because looking at your things only made this thing ten times more painful. I wanted you to feel some of the hurt I did." He threw his dirty laundry into the hamper and cleared his throat.

"Well, it worked. And I'm sorry." He walked into the bedroom, opening his own go-bag and taking out his pajamas. "I can take the couch tonight. Or even the floor if that's what you'd prefer."

"Or you can just take the bed and stop trying to downgrade yourself. You're not back in my good graces, but I am human."

Spencer nodded slightly, grabbing his clothes and walking to the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

* * *

While Spencer was in the shower, Derek finished unpacking their go-bags, setting Spencer's things in the second drawer of his dresser and throwing in a load of laundry. Spencer's phone started ringing and Derek opened the bathroom door. "Pretty Boy, your phone's ringing."

"Can you answer it? I'll be out in a minute."

"Got it." He closed the door, walking to the bedroom and answering. "Spencer's phone."

"…Is Spencer there?"

"He will be in a minute." He sat on the bed, leaning against the headboard. "Who may I ask is calling?"

"It's um, it's Mason. He said he'd call back, but I had something to tell him. If he's not around, I can call another time, or maybe you could have him call me. I'm sorry, you are?"

He realized he was just as nervous with conversation as Spencer, and knew that he couldn't be to blame for what happened. "This is Derek."

"Derek as in… Derek? Wow, I just… I just want you to know that I'm sorry. I know I didn't do anything personally to you, and if I'd known, I wouldn't have reacted the way I did-"

"Don't worry about it." He heard the water turn off in the shower. "Can I ask what this call is about?"

"He… he said I could call when I got the results of my dissertation, but if you want me to call back another time or not at all, I understand?"

Spencer walked in, wearing a pair of pajama pants and holding out the gauze and tape to Derek. "Help?"

He nodded, holding out the phone to him. "_Mason_ is on the phone."

Spencer's eyes widened, unsure of what to do. He knew Derek wanted to fully trust him again, and he couldn't do that if he was having private conversations with Mason. He sat beside Derek, putting the phone on speaker.

"What are you doing?"

Spencer set the gauze and medical tape down. "Not keeping any secrets. Mason?"

"Yeah, I'm sorry if this is a bad time-"

"It's fine, except for the fact I have a stitched up hole in my side that Derek's nursing as we speak." He winced, hissing as Derek inspected the stitches. "Ow!"

"Well I didn't tell you to get yourself stabbed, did I?" Derek said with a smirk, putting the gauze on and unwrapping the tape.

"Oh, I'm sorry."

"Don't be, I did it for somebody on my team that matters." He cautiously reached out, running a hand over Derek's head. "You'll learn that's how a team functions in the BAU."

"Thanks for the pointer. And um, thanks for your help on my dissertation. I heard back from my professor and I ended up getting a perfect score, thanks to your examples."

Spencer laid on his side, setting the phone between them. "You're giving me too much credit and yourself not enough."

"Listen, I don't want to be between the two of you. I just wanted to say thank you."

Spencer muted his side, looking at Derek. "Do you mind if I still take him out to coffee? I promise, it's nothing more than that. It's just what I need to do to forgive myself, or at least start to."

"One condition."

"Anything."

"You're not going alone."

He nodded slightly, taking the phone off mute. "Mason?"

"Yeah?"

"Can I still buy you that coffee tomorrow? Both as an 'I'm sorry for being a total douchebag' and a 'congratulations on your dissertation'?"

"Um, sure, what time?"

"Derek and I need to be at work tomorrow morning at 9. So does 8 work for you?"

"That works if it works for you. I'll be there."

Spencer hung up, exhaling and looking at Derek. "Thank you."

"Mhm." He kissed the top of Spencer's head. "Can I get you anything else?"

He shook his head slightly, fighting to keep his eyes open. "I'm fine."

"Get some sleep."

He nodded, instinctively moving closer to Derek and falling asleep.

* * *

Not long after, Derek's phone started ringing. He quickly reached over, silencing the ringer and answering. "Hello?" he whispered.

"How is he? Is he okay? How bad is it?"

He smirked. "He's fine, Baby Girl. Sleeping it off as we speak. There's twelve stitches in his side and he lost a lot of blood, but he's got it back and he's fighting that he's fine, as always."

"He _needs_ to stop getting himself hurt on the job. I can't take this anymore."

"He took the hit for me."

"…He _what_?!"

"The unsub was going to get me, and he shoved me out of the way."

"Jesus, Spencer Reid, you little badass. Are you two okay?"

"We're… better. Thanks."

"Well, let him get some sleep and I'll see you two in the morning?"

"Will do. I'd better go before he wakes up and starts arguing with me that he doesn't need sleep."

"Gotcha. Sleep tight."

"You too, Baby Girl." He hung up, leaning over and plugging his phone in to charge. He couldn't help but smile when Spencer whined in his sleep, desperate for more contact with him. They definitely weren't back where they were before, and wouldn't be for a while, but something about starting over from a certain place felt right.

Spencer ended up sleeping most of the night, and only woke up to get some Tylenol in his system. He was careful not to wake Derek when he did and crawled right back into bed, curling up beside him. The morning came much earlier than he would've liked, and he sighed, burying his head in the pillow and groaning.

"Always the morning person, aren't you?" Derek asked as he got dressed.

He sighed. "Shouldn't I be allowed a day off after getting a knife in my side?"

"Should you? Yes. Could you? Yes. Are you going to? No, because sitting at home with the injury is going to drive you crazy, which in turn, means you're going to drive me crazy by calling me every hour on the hour to ask for updates about the work day. Now, get up."

When Spencer still didn't move, he shook his head, grabbing the blanket and pulling it off of him.

* * *

After Spencer had his first cup of coffee, Derek sat out in the living room while he got dressed.

"Don't even think of a belt today. Or tucking in your shirt," Derek called back to him.

"So you want me to look uncivilized?"

"No, I just don't want to hear you whining that you're in pain all day because your belt is digging into your stitches since you wear it so high, or your shirt got caught in it because it's too tight against your skin."

Spencer left his shirt untucked and slipped his shoes on, grabbing his satchel and walking out of the bedroom. "I feel like an idiot."

"But you look comfortable?" He got up, putting his wallet into his pocket, along with his credentials and his phone. He grabbed his keys off the hook and looked at him. "Ready?"

"Why?"

"…You may have been out of it yesterday because you were so tired, but you made plans to meet your friend at the coffee house before work."

"I don't have any friends," Spencer tried to reason, following him out of the apartment.

"But you do have a Mason," Derek said, locking the door.

Spencer looked up at him. "I didn't."

"You did."

* * *

The drive to the coffeehouse was quiet, and Spencer got out, chewing on his cheek. He walked inside with Derek, getting their usual orders and sitting down at a table. He thought to himself that maybe Mason wouldn't show up, knowing that Derek would be there as well, and he could save himself some embarrassment. This thought process didn't go on too long, as he saw Mason walking in a few minutes later. He swallowed, walking up to the counter and ordering Mason a coffee, grabbing it and walking over to the table, bringing over an extra chair.

Mason walked over awkwardly, waving slightly and taking the seat.

"Derek Morgan, Mason Adams. Mason Adams, Derek Morgan," Spencer said, introducing the two of them.

Derek held out his hand, shaking Mason's. "Spencer tells me you're coming to the FBI soon," he said, crossing his arms.

"Well, yeah. I finished my dissertation to hold me over until I could join, and I'll be there in a few months, though in what department, I haven't really decided. I was thinking about the BAU, but considering how many injuries there are… speaking of, how are you, Spencer?"

"I'm fine," he said quickly, taking a sip of his coffee. He eyed Derek before clearing his throat, knowing he had to get to the point. "Mason," he started, chewing on his cheek. "I am so incredibly sorry for what I did to you." He saw Mason ready to interrupt and shook his head. "Let me finish. Derek had made me angry quite a few times, and we had a few heated arguments on the subject. When I met you, it wasn't my intention to do what we did, and it just seemed to happen with the chain of events. I genuinely wanted to get to know you and talk and share ideas, but my jealousy took over, and that was wrong of me. I love Derek, more than anything, and the fact that I hurt both of you in the process of hurting him was wrong. He didn't deserve me being spiteful, and you didn't deserve being used as a pawn to hurt him. I sincerely apologize for my behavior, and I hope you can forgive me for it."

Mason seemed to consider it, looking over at them. Spencer gripped Derek's arm, as if willing him to stay. He eyed Derek, "I swear, I didn't know what was going to happen, and if I'd known he was in a relationship-"

"I know," Derek said, nodding slightly. "And I really appreciate that."

"So you two are back together?" he asked, pointing between them.

Spencer bit his lip, shaking his head slightly. "We're not technically _back_ together, but we're not hating each other like we did, if that makes any sense? What I did to him was disgusting, and a rather stupid form of revenge. If I hadn't taken the bullet, or in this case, the knife for him, I don't think this would be where it is."

"…You mean to tell me you took a stabbing for somebody on your team?"

"That's how teams work, just like a family. You'd do anything for them, and anything to protect them. That's what I had to do in the moment, and I don't regret it, despite everything." He chanced a look at Derek before looking across the table at Mason. "I just hope that you can forgive me, because despite everything that happened, I really would appreciate your friendship, though I understand completely if you want to tell me to screw off."

"Well, I don't have it in myself to do that… but I suppose having a conversation with someone on my intellectual level every once in a while wouldn't be so bad?"

Spencer smiled slightly, looking at Derek. "Is this okay with you?"

Derek nodded. "You'll call me during and after?"

"Promise." He saw Mason looking confused. "Part of me earning his forgiveness, and in turn his trust, is me checking in with him. It'll go away eventually, but at this point in time, it's here to stay."

"Ah." He sipped his coffee, checking his watch. "I have to get going for a meeting with my advisor, really, I'm not trying to cut out of here early." He reached out a hand to Derek. "It was great to meet you, SSA Morgan."

Derek shook his hand and Mason gave a quick wave to Spencer before picking up his coffee, taking off.

"You slept with _him_?" Derek asked, turning to him. "The kid looks scared of his own shadow."

He shrugged. "He sort of reminded me of myself when I was his age. A constant need to prove himself with his genius, the nerves, and paranoia over his grades. I wanted to take him under my wing or something, but it just sort of escalated."

"Oh, really?" Derek said sarcastically.

Spencer bit down on his lip, unsure if that answer was joking or spiteful. He knew he had to walk on eggshells around Derek for a while, but if it meant earning his trust back, he'd do anything.


	11. Chapter 11

Over the next few months, Spencer had to work hard to build Derek's trust again. Anytime he had plans outside the house, whether he was told to or not, he'd call Derek to check in, and he'd talk to him every night before bed if they weren't in the same apartment. On cases, they were acting like they used to, much to the relief of the team and everyone else they worked with. At work, they went on with conversing and helping each other out, which was definitely a great alternative to ignoring each other and tiptoeing. Nobody at work, except Rossi, ever found out what had happened between them, and figured that it was just a lover's spat that they were able to resolve. Neither of them would ever tell them the truth.

Spencer started staying the night with Derek not long after his injury, but in the first couple of months, they'd be distant, wondering how they were supposed to deal with the situation. They weren't back to where they'd started, but they were definitely closer to that than they were after the incident. Spencer didn't keep any secrets, and he never allowed himself to hide anything from Derek. Any phone calls that weren't from the team were had on speakerphone around Derek, so he couldn't suspect otherwise. It wasn't until five months after the incident that Derek trusted him to have his conversations privately. Still, for some time after, Spencer still let Derek hear them.

One condition of everything, made by Spencer, was a weekly date night, if a case didn't get in the way. Most weeks, he'd make it Derek's decision, and they'd go wherever he felt like that night. They'd had date nights at sports bars, arcades, sporting events, star gazing at the park, picnics, and even a few museums and plays, which Spencer knew were for him. Even though Spencer hated it, there were even a few date nights at the beach, where he forgot his dislike as soon as he saw Derek in the water. After said date nights, they'd go back to one of their apartments, usually Derek's, and spend the night together. Most nights were spent staying up talking to each other about anything and everything that came to mind, like they had done when they started dating. Spencer would gladly admit that it felt right, starting over from that point, considering that was the point in their relationship they'd started trusting each other.

When it came to Mason, Spencer was relieved to find out that he still wanted something to do with him after what he'd done. They met up a couple of times a month for coffee, and Spencer was sure to specify with Derek that it was _just _coffee. The first few times, Derek would tag along, staying toward the back of the coffee shop with Penelope or somebody else on the team, his excuse being that he just wanted to meet up and talk about something non-work related. Garcia would be suspicious, but she'd never act on it.

Spencer sat in the coffee shop, an empty seat in front of him, checking his watch. Mason walked in and he looked up at him.

"No Derek today?" Mason asked, taking off his scarf and setting it on the back of his chair along with his coat.

Spencer shook his head. "He's at the gym for the next few hours. My options were meeting you for coffee, or dealing with his gassy little pitbull, who recently had a change in his diet."

Mason laughed softly. "Well, I'm glad I rank above odoriferous canines."

"I apparently don't, because Derek locked him in the bedroom this morning while I was still sleeping. He thought he was being funny."

"If the tables were turned though, you'd find it hilarious."

"Yes, but they weren't." He sipped his coffee, setting it down. "How are you?"

"Good. Great, actually. I started at the bureau earlier this week."

Spencer raised an eyebrow. "Already?"

"I finished the academy, I'm done with school, and I nursed my ankle injury for a few months."

"That's great, where are you working?"

"I'm working with SSA Cole in the Innocent Images Unit."

"What, you couldn't handle the field?" Spencer joked.

"Considering in the eight months I've known you, you've not only been stabbed, but been through psychological trauma _and_ fractured your wrist? I don't think the BAU is calling out my name just yet."

He raised his eyebrows. "Point taken." He checked his watch and looked at Mason. "Do you mind if I make a phone call?"

He shook his head. "Feel free."

Spencer took out his phone, calling Derek, waiting. "Come on, Derek Morgan, pick up your phone. I know you're busy punching the life out of a punching bag, but I know your phone is on full blast. So help me God if you don't answer and you're ignoring me-"

"Hello?"

His eyes widened. "And how much of that did you hear?"

Mason chuckled as Derek answered him. "I just caught 'so help me God if you don't answer and you're ignoring me'. What's up?"

"I just checked the time and saw it was past 5:00. Do you want me to pick up dinner on the way home, or do you want to grab it?"

Derek checked the clock on the wall. "I'll grab it, I think I'm going to be here another hour or so."

"What, you haven't done your 1,000 sit-ups yet?"

"I actually need to do my second rep."

"…Sometimes, I hate you." He smiled, shaking his head. "So I'll see you when you get home?"

"That you will. Love you."

Spencer bit down on his lip, smiling to himself. "I love you too."

Derek hung up and Spencer tucked his phone back into his pocket.

"So how are you two?" Mason asked.

"We're… better than we were? I don't know how to put it, really. We sort of started back at square one without _actually_ going back to the beginning. It was like restarting the relationship, and it was something both of us needed, though we could've come across a better reason for doing it."

"I'll say."

He smirked. "We're honest and open with each other, and we don't let anything stay inside anymore. We communicate, we listen, and we even have date nights now. My idea. And the best part is, he's finally starting to trust me again."

"That's great."

He nodded slightly. "I only hope that you can find someone like Derek, because really, it's amazing. Just don't break anti-fraternization rules like we have, because Hotch had to pull a _lot_ of strings to get them off of our asses about it."

"I already have."

"Have what?"

"Found someone."

"Seriously?" Mason gave him a look and he shook his head. "No, not like that, I mean… wow, congratulations. Who? How?"

"He was in my class with the dissertation. He proofread it for me, but really, I knew it was perfect and it was just an excuse to spend time with him. After that, he wanted me to read his, which was also perfect. When classes ended, we had to come up with actual reasons to keep seeing each other, so I called him, and long story short, we've been dating."

"That's great. Where is he tonight?"

"Police department. He's a CSI."

"You're in the IINI, he's in the CSI. It's like a match made in some twisted version of heaven."

"I guess you could say that."

Spencer had to admit, he was genuinely happy for Mason. After what he'd done to him, he hoped he didn't scare him away from relationships forever. Instead, it seemed like he was going to be fine on his own, having found his own Derek Morgan. Speaking from personal experience, a Derek Morgan is just what a person like them needed: considering they were small and intellectual, they needed someone protective. He said his goodbyes to Mason shortly after and got on the subway, heading back to Derek's apartment.

* * *

Derek walked into the apartment, setting the bags of food on the kitchen table. Spencer walked over, wrapping his arms around him, resting his head on his chest.

"Pretty Boy, I'm still sweaty from the gym. Your clothes are going to smell."

Spencer sighed, burying his head in the crook of Derek's neck. "I don't care."

Derek smiled to himself, running his fingers through Spencer's hair. "Well as long as _you're_ comfortable."

Spencer sighed contentedly, licking his lips. "Did you mean it?"

"Did I mean what?" Derek asked, looking at him, confused.

"When you said 'I love you' again?"

Derek opened his mouth to respond again, but paused. He hadn't noticed that he hadn't said those words to Spencer since before the incident. A lot had happened over the last few months to convince him that he could trust Spencer again, though Morgans were strong on forgiving, not forgetting.

"Derek? Did you mean it?"

He smirked at how impatient Spencer was and nodded, tilting his head so he could kiss the back of Spencer's. "I love you, Spencer."

He sniffed, tightening his grip around Derek. "I love you too."

It had been eight months since the incident, and Spencer was happy to say that the two of them were back to some sense of normalcy. He knew that, in the back of his mind, Derek would always remember, but Spencer would never give him a reason not to trust him ever again. No matter what came up, the two of them would talk through their problems, rather than letting them fester inside to the point of boiling over, considering that had been their problem in the first place. They weren't back where they'd started, but they were definitely in a much better place than they had been. Not only that, but Spencer learned a very important lesson: it definitely isn't easier to lie, and the truth is always best to keep a relationship going.


End file.
